Understand to believe
by HellGS
Summary: Twenty years have passed. A new messiah is alive. But what’s his fate, his purpose? Whatever it is, he'll need all the help he can get. And some of it he’s already got from a very unexpected source. Warning: language, violence, mature terms.
1. Home

**Author`s note:**

- Firstly and most importantly, English is not my native language or even my second one, so you'll understand this is clearly kinda difficult. Therefore my undying and boundless gratitude belongs to **LJ FeroxArgentea (Cat)**, this story's beta;

- I like the movie. That's obvious, actually, 'cos why would I writing this fic if I didn't? But I still wanna say it out loud. Good movie, much better than some of the usual blockbuster crap;

- I don't own Legion, naturally, but no copyright infringement is intended. I don't own the movie's characters. Isn't that obvious? Not for profit (though it's interesting to consider what profit there could actually be). Just having a little fun;

- I also made a Legion music video, in which I tried to show my impressions of this movie. If anybody's interested, the link is in my profile;

- Paul Bettany's Michael may be the most important reason I'm doing this - I just can`t let him go :)

**I****ntelligo ut credam ***

_*__Understand to believe (lat) _

**1. Home**

The black SUV was moving through the desert night on a road half-covered with sand, making very little noise. It was dark, as dark as only desert could be. The car's headlamps were almost the only source of light, but there was also moonlight, dim and gloomy, making everything around look slightly unreal.

On the back seat of the SUV slept a man and a woman, middle-aged, early forties. The woman's head lay on the man's chest, and his arm was around her shoulders. Even as he slept, he held her gently but tightly.

The driver was a young woman, later twenties perhaps… or at least that's what you might have thought, before you looked closer. No lines on the face, perfect skin. But her eyes… those eyes could not belong to someone that young. Hazel is supposed to be warm, isn't it? These were hazel and they were as cold as ice. So was her face: cold and focused. Her hair was blonde-brown, with silvery sparks in the moonlight, a little bit longer than her shoulders. Dressed in black, she looked like a shadow inside the SUV. Driving with her right hand only, and holding a cigarette in her left, she was obviously trying to direct the smoke out of the half-open window, away from the passenger in the front seat.

It was a young man, nineteen or twenty, certainly no older. In the dim light from the car's control panel could be seen big blue eyes, a fresh face and dark blond hair. His clothes were dark as well.

"I hate when you do that," he said suddenly in a low voice. His head tipped towards her cigarette.

"Yeah, well… get over it," she answered, and inhaled.

This was obviously not the first time they'd had this conversation.

"So… where do we go?" He had obviously decided to change the subject.

"Somewhere safe," she shrugged, as if it was a strange question.

"Nowhere is safe. You taught me so, remember?" There was a little push in his voice.

"It's safe, as much as it could be safe at all." She sounded like she was starting to become annoyed, he realized.

And then there was silence, broken only by the sound of sleepy breathing from the back seat and the engine's soft, low rumble. The man's hands moved in his lap, followed by a particular noise – click.

"I also taught you not to play with guns, remember?" she said sharply, not bothering to change her stance.

"Just checking," he replied in an absent-minded tone, and then suddenly added with fervor, "Why are you mad at me?"

"I'm not mad." This time she turned her face and gave him a "you're so wrong" look. But first she dropped her cigarette butt out of the window. The red flash of light disappeared in the dark within a moment. "I've being thinking."

"What about?" He was definitely glad to have some more small talk.

"Always the same: how we'll survive the next 24 hours, Cain." She did not appreciate small talk, for sure.

About forty minutes later the SUV pulled over. There was some shapeless delineation within a couple of yards of the car.

The guy glanced at the woman with some surprise. "Are we done already?"

She nodded in agreement.

"So, where're we now?"

"In the middle of the nowhere," she smirked, then added much louder, "Charlie, Jeep, wakey-wakey."

They woke up immediately, the man sitting up with his palm on the rifle by his left foot, and the woman holding a Taurus in her right hand.

"It's okay, no need to worry, we just arrived." The driver's voice was suddenly soft and reassuring. "Now we'll wait."

"What is this place, El?" The older woman had an unexpectedly young voice.

In answer, the driver turned the car's headlights up so they could see everything clearly. The car was parked near the little-known Paradise Falls, or at least what was left of it. There were a lot of crashed and burned cars around the ruins of a cafeteria. It was as if a bomb blew up at Moll's Parking on December 23rd with no-one left to clean up the mess.

"Home, sweet home." There was anything but joy in Jeep's voice.


	2. Arrival

**2. Arrival**

El opened the car door and got out. Then a creepy, disturbing noise broke the night's silence.

"What the fuck is that?" When Cain got out of the car there was the same sound again.

"Language, young man!" Charlie said, but it was obviously just from habit. It was not as if her son's swearing was the most important thing right now.

"Bones," Jeep whispered, having shone his flashlight downwards.

"What? Shit!" Cain almost jumped on discovering that he was standing on someone's remains.

"Relax," said El calmly. "They won't bite." And then she added after a moment's thought, "Well, not anymore."

"Why are we here?" There was pure terror in Charlie's voice. "What the point of being in this damned place?"

Jeep frowned. He really didn't like how scared his wife sounded. They had been together almost twenty years, but he still loved her as much as back then, or maybe even more. She and Cain, that was all he had now, all that remained for him. They made him strong enough to have survived the Apocalypse. Not just to have gone through the motions but to have lived every moment and embraced all the joy that was left in the world. And it didn't matter that there were gray streaks in her hair, or she had put on weight. It didn't matter at all. The whole world might have gone to Hell but it would not change his feelings towards his wife. So he really didn't like the fact that El had brought them here.

"Was this really necessary?" he said out loud in a sharp voice, looking at the dark figure standing in front of the vehicle in the glare of the headlamps.

She shrugged and then took a cigarette pack from her pants pocket. "Dunno. I guess he has a bit of a strange sense of humor." She lit up and inhaled deeply. "Even by my standards."

"Will someone explain to me what the hell is going on here?" Cain aimed a half-hearted kick at one of the skulls on the ground. "Who the hell is 'he'?"

"Hey, did you hear that?" Charlie interrupted him, and they all froze in silence. Now they could clearly hear a noise, one that sounded like a car approaching. Someone was coming for them.

Cain, moving really quickly, got into the car and turned the headlamps off. Then he got out and took up position behind an old crashed truck on the right side of the SUV. That way, if there was going to be a gunfight, the newcomer or newcomers would be forced to shoot left, which most people found more difficult. It could take seconds to adjust, and sometimes just one second could make the difference between life and death.

Charlie and Jeep took up places behind the SUV's opened doors.

"Not all that smart," said El, not even bothering to change her position. Instead she leaned back on the SUV's hood. "I love this car. If anyone hits it while aiming at you, I'll kill you myself."

"Not funny!" Jeep was obviously nervous.

"Oh, I think it is," she smirked, and then dropped her cigarette butt and crushed it with a heavy boot heel, so that they disappeared in the resulting darkness. If you didn't know where to look, it would be almost impossible to find them. "And there'll be much more fun. Cain, get your questions ready. The very man who has the answers is almost here."

***

In another minute they saw an old silver Chevy pull over right in front of them. The driver opened the door and got out. At that very moment, Jeep turned the SUV's headlamps on, and a man – it definitely was a man – shielded his eyes with his left arm, giving them enough time to take a good look at him.

He was tall, more than 6 foot, slim but powerfully built, with short dark-blond hair. He was wearing black pants and a t-shirt under a vest, no jacket, despite the chilly, even cold, night air. His arms were completely covered with some strange tattoo. No visible guns.

Cain looked at El and she nodded.

"Clear," he said, and Jeep switched the headlamps to low beam.

The man dropped his hand, and his blue-gray eyes looked at them in quiet amusement. "It's so nice to see you all alive," he said in a deep, pleasant voice, a flicker of a smile on his face.

El straightened up and took a step forward. "Well, hey yourself, too, Michael."


	3. Michael

**3. Michael**

_"Will we ever see you again?" Jeep's voice caught him up, right at the precipice's edge._

_He looked back just to see his face, still showing traces of his recent hardship but full of hope. What had Jeep expected to hear? That it was all over, and now they could live happily ever after, and that that was why he, Michael, would never come back? That was never gonna happen. Nothing was over, it was just the beginning. It was just one battle, not even the hardest one to win. And there would be more. Or maybe he would prefer something like 'Guys, I'm staying to protect you and the Child forever?' Not an option either. He belonged to Heaven, not Earth. And humans should learn how to live their lives decently by themselves. That was their only true hope, and he really hoped they'd take it. Besides… he had something very important to do – he should talk again to his brother. Gabriel. He must deal with their issues. _

_So he turned his face back, met Jeep's eyes and said the best he was able to say: "Have faith." _

_And then he took a run and jumped from the cliff-top. It was so good to feel the wind once more singing its song through his wings. So good that he didn't bother to look back when he heard a strange noise, like a scream. Why would he? His mission there was accomplished. _

_He knew that something was wrong the very moment he reached Heaven. Gabriel wasn't there. He couldn't felt his presence. Not a big surprise though - clearly he needed some time alone. Michael certainly would've, if he'd done something like his little brother had – **killed him**. Yeah, that kind of stuff would need some time to process, but surely it could not be for long, right? They still had obligations, and the younger archangel was always keen on duty. But more and more time passed and Gabriel didn't show up, and none of their other brothers could tell Michael anything about the missing one. Couldn't or didn't want to. So he went to the source of all knowledge._

_xxx_

_"I'm worried, Father."_

_"Why?"_

_"I can't find my brother, Gabriel."_

_"The one who killed you."_

_"But he had orders! Orders that You gave him… You didn't punish him for that, did You?"_

_"Michael, why would I punish so loyal and obedient a son? Of course I didn't. He did what he had to, and you did – what needed to be done."_

_"I don't understand…"_

_"Neither does he. You both served a higher purpose."_

_"But how?"_

_"You should have more faith in Me."_

_"I believe You, Father."_

_"That's not what I'm talking about. Everything happens for a reason. Remember that, Michael."_

_"Yes, Father. I only want to know where my brother is. That's all I ask."_

_"Well, he asked me for something too. And I gave it to him. You see, Gabriel always was a true believer, as you know, but now he needs to understand."_

_Then there was a deep silence. Michael spoke no more to his Father, because he realized exactly where Gabriel was. _

xxx

When he got out of the car a sudden flash of bright light almost blinded him, so that he was forced to shield his eyes with his arm. A couple of moments later, he heard a young man's voice.

_"Clear," the man said. _

And then the light blinked and became more tolerable, so that Michael could drop his hand. When he did so, what he saw… Well, right in front of him was a black SUV, and a young girl with her back and both palms against its hood. She was wearing all black, pants and boots and t-shirt underneath an unbuttoned hoodie. The SUV's doors were open, and behind them he saw Charlie and Jeep, who were pointing guns at him. From their faces it was clear that they had been through some harsh times since he left. And yes, they had grown older. But the most important person was certainly the boy. Or not a boy, actually, but rather a very young man, hiding behind the old crashed track on his left. Good position, the safe one, unlike the girl's, standing right in the firing line. She didn't realize it, didn't care, or was she supposed to be a distraction? Never mind, the girl could wait. The boy – _Cain, he reminded himself_ – could not.

Actually there was another person he had been hoping – _eager_ – to see, and until now he had been almost sure that that person would be here. But he hadn't shown up. His little brother. Gabriel. Was he still mad at Michael – _he was so mad back then, despite the guilt he felt, Michael knew that for sure_ – or maybe he still felt embarrassed? How had all these years spent amongst human beings changed him? Had he changed at all? Why hadn't he come?! He had definitely got the message, for how else would these people have known when and where to meet him? So he was at least in contact with them. Or perhaps not, bearing in mind the history of their relationship – _Jeep's father, Bob, shot at Gabriel, who spun rapidly, his deadly wings covering him and protecting him from bullets. It was frightening and beautiful. Then a long cut appeared on Bob's abdomen_. – Anyway, it was a lead. The only one he had.

All these thoughts crossed his mind in a flash, ending with this: _Focus, Michael. First things first._

So he took a step forward and said with a smile, or at least with his idea of a smile, "It's nice to see you all alive."

To his great surprise it was the girl – _Cain's girlfriend?_ – who answered him, as if she was the one in charge. She straightened up and then took a step forward – _not a girl, but rather a woman_ – and said with a beautiful, deep – _angelic_ – and yet ironic voice, "Well, hey yourself, too, Michael."

And then she took one more step forward, so that he could clearly see her neck, covered with a tattoo. The same tattoo he had on his own. And then he saw her eyes. They were different, but that steady unblinking gaze… he would have recognized that no matter what.

He blinked at her, and all he was able to say, in a husky voice full of such disbelief, was, "Gabriel?..."

Her answer was emotionless. "Surprise surprise."


	4. Gabriel

**4. Gabriel **

They say falling is the last thing an angel feels before he stops existing as one. The truth was that falling was the very first thing he felt for real. And then there was pain, a lot of pain. Would he have reconsidered his choice if he'd known how much it would hurt? Would he have chosen another way? – _There is no other way._ – No, of course he wouldn't. If his brother could handle it, so could he. The physical pain didn't matter in comparison with his heartache – _Broken, that's how it feels_ – but he'd deal with that too, in time. – _First things first_.

When he left that damn cliff, confused and full of anger, he didn't know what he was going to do. What had happened back there had changed him. – _You gave him what he asked for. I gave him what he needed_. – What was that supposed to mean?! For all the eons of their existence they were supposed to carry out His wishes. That was the point of their very existence. Only once out of all of those times had some of them refused to do so, and their fate had been pretty unenviable. – _Michael's face was cold and dark. His right foot was lying heavily on his brother's chest, and his sword, well known all over The Grace, was pointing at his brother's throat. The words he had spoken were harsh and heavy as well: 'You belong here no more'_. – And he, Gabriel, had never followed that lead. Not because of fear, no, because he had had unshakeable faith in their Father. It was always complete. No doubts, no questions, ever. Even that particular time, when he'd been told to stop Michael – _kill him_ – he complied, no matter that his soul was bleeding. – _You were always so eager to please him. _– He had said it as if it were something bad. Had it been bad, that thing that he was supposed to do? Because it seemed now that he'd done it all wrong, and his greatest sacrifice to Him was for nothing. - _I would__ not have shown you such mercy. - I know. That's why you failed him_. – He had failed.

He had failed even before his brother disarmed him and pointed his sword at his throat. He had failed in the last battle because rage made him blind and reckless. But the truth was, he had lost even before it all started. He had lost because of his lack of understanding. Because Michael had understood their Father's true will, and he hadn't. Because Michael saw something in humans, and he didn't. Because he had never cared enough to look at them more closely, even though he was the one who had first been sent to the Messiah's mother to proclaim that the Child would be born. Such an irony, wasn't it, considering his last mission? Because he had lost his faith in them after they crucified Him, Who came to Earth for them with love. Because somewhere deep inside he had started to think that they – _His new toys, don't you see it?!_ – didn't deserve what He gave them. That there was no good reason why angels should be forced to bow –_ Never!_ – before them. So he had either had to start questioning his Father – _like him, who was cast out_ – or just accept it and push aside all those thoughts. The latter was exactly what he had chosen to do. But it hadn't turned his heart towards mankind. He had just tolerated them.

So, when his beloved brother, the one who had always been an example for him, had said that he was going to take a risk and defy His will for them, despise all the consequences, well, that had been the last straw. And then had come hatred.

It had been pure hatred when he tried to kill that boy, Jeep. It had not been about the mission, but about some pathetic human daring to stand up to him. And what he had discovered was that everything seemed so much easier when he felt those emotions: anger, rage, hatred. It made him stronger than ever, and it pushed all doubts away. So he hadn't rejected it. And he had been so sure he was doing the right thing. – _You are wrong, brother. - I'm not!_

There had only been one moment of hesitation, when he had stood face to face with the child's mother. She had had no chance, not even a slight one, against him. But she hadn't given him the child; instead she had clasped him to her chest as if that would help. And her face, frightened but inflexible, had made him hesitate for a moment. It had made him sorry for what he was intending to do. It had made him doubt. Was there really no hope for them, if some of them were capable of something like that? Of things like all those people, strangers, caught up in the desert, had done, sacrificing their lives to save someone else's? Were those the things his brother thought were worth fighting for?

But when Jeep jumped on his back it had all disappeared and he had become furious. And when Michael suddenly appeared from the sky, alive, and bewilderingly no longer human but archangel, it had not cooled his fury. And it should have, it should have made him realize immediately by whose will such a thing could have happened. Anger had made him blind, deaf and stupid. He had failed.

He had stayed kneeling on the cliff top, waiting for death. Michael's face had been cold and dark, his sword pointed at Gabriel's throat. – _Just like back then, only another brother_. – He had been ready for whatever would come next, but not for this. – _Do it! __- __No_. – And then had come shame.

So, when he left that damn cliff, confused, full of anger – a_shamed_ – he didn't know what he was going to do. There was only one thing he knew for sure: he couldn't go back home. He wouldn't. Not now, when his faith had been shaken. Not until he understood how all of it could possibly even have happened. – _You wanted to live like one of them. Now you die like one of them_. – Not until he saw the things Michael already saw. – _It doesn't matter what happens to me_. – He made his decision.

Gabriel hovered in the sky to take a look around, not knowing whether he would ever be able to do such a thing again: to feel the wind singing its song in his wings. He looked up: to be so close to Grace. He folded his wings, his lips moving silently: – _Forgive me. _– And then he fell down.

xxx

And there he was, kneeling again on firm ground. It was dawn, and only the first glimmers of the sun were dissipating the dark. It was a couple of moments before he was able to move. Great, he was on all fours on some highway, as if he had not had enough of that particular experience, not so long ago. Luckily there was no car to hit him this time. He tried to stand up. His body felt strange and off-balance, but he managed it. And then there was one more thing that needed to be done, a very unpleasant thing. Slowly he made for a pile of rocks by the roadside, and hid behind it, because he definitely didn't want anyone to see what was coming next.

Gabriel took out his dagger and without any hesitation cut away his wings.

If he thought that hurt, he was wrong. It was nothing in comparison with what happened next. There was a glowing ring of cold blue-white fire, brought down from the sky right onto him. It felt like he was burning inside and outside at the same time. The pain was unbearable, and he screamed like hell. And at the same very moment as his collar fell down, he fainted.

When he regained consciousness it was early morning, already broad daylight but still chilly. He tried to stand up, and groaned softly; his back was hurt. The wounds, he needed to clean those up and do whatever people did in situations like this. _– Oh, really? And exactly how often are people in situations like this? – Shut up. – _It looked like he had hit his head when he had fainted and fallen, because why else would everything be blurry, why he would he feel so weak? And when he tried to pick up his mace it seemed horribly heavy. _–_ _Because you're human now_. _–_ That thought made him freeze. So that was how Michael had felt? He remembered their fight. And with a body like this he was able to fight back for so long, and to beat up his brother as hard as he did? It made Gabriel felt such shame, even disgust towards himself. Michael had spared his life, but would he be able to forgive him some day? _– Don't think about it. Not now_. _Focus, Gabriel. –_ He started to take off his armor. He felt much better without its weight.

When he took off his breastplate, he realized something was wrong with him. He pressed his palm to his breast. Wait… breasts?! He raised his arm – too small – and peered at the blade of his dagger. A very good-looking woman stared back at him from its reflective surface. Hazel eyes, wide open and surprised, and very short blonde-brown hair shot through with silver. He closed his eyes, as if hoping it was just some trick of the mind, but when he opened them again, all remained the same: a young woman in what was left of his angel's clothes – pants, some robes, boots, all black.

He… no, she, looked up and said out loud, "You have got to be kidding me!"

There was no answer to this.

Then she shook her head and added, with an air of doom in her voice, "Well, it looks like I'm completely fucked."


	5. Welcome

**5. Welcome**

At first Jeep didn't understand what was going on there, where El and Michael were standing face to face. He hadn't known for sure whom the planned meeting would be with, but he had been really glad when it turned out to be Michael, because some of El's contacts had been pretty strange. From what he could remember, they had been ex-military and mercenaries and some guys who looked to him like out-and-out criminals, and when Cain was only half-grown El had started making him communicate with them too. Why? She had said that he needed to understand different people, and that he might also have need of them in future. It was a big deal for her to give such a detailed explanation instead of her usual 'It must be done'.

So Michael was quite a pleasant surprise. A huge surprise, actually, because the last time Jeep had seen him, well, firstly it had been twenty years ago, and secondly he had been rather more… angelic. Wings and other stuff, you know. But there he was, just like in the good – _horrible_ – old days. And clearly he was the one that El was waiting for. So, what could possibly go wrong?

He looked exactly like Jeep remembered him, not changed at all. The same austere features, the same stern look, and he was in good shape, too. Hell, he was even dressed alike, only without that fancy coat. – _Can you believe that, a coat in the desert, huh?_ – And no guns. – _That's strange. I thought the guy had a thing for it. They all have, actually, as far as I've noticed._ _It's cool when they're on your side, otherwise it's a total disaster._ – Although back then Michael had seemed much older than Jeep. Now… well, he didn't.

When six hours earlier El had woken them all up and said "We're leaving in thirty minutes, get ready", Jeep had smelled trouble, because her face had been even more cold and dispassionate than usual, and usually that meant trouble. She had ignored all questions. – _Oh, yeah, when was that ever different? _– The only thing she had said was: "We need to meet someone." Even Cain hadn't been able to get anything else from his beloved tutor, protector, guardian angel… whatever. – _I kinda never thought before that there might be such a thing as female angels, but on the other hand I would never have thought before about the angelically-possessed people, either. Like Percy said, God rest his soul, angels are supposed to be good guys_. _But that doesn't mean they're all supposed to be men, I guess. _–Although when he asked El about it one time, she gave him that particular look and said everything was different **_up there,_** period. As he had noticed, she didn't like to talk about that kind of stuff. If she could she would definitely have hidden what she was even from them. But it was a bit hard for someone who didn't grow any older and who had so many of those tattoos on their body. And for someone who could do certain… _stuff_.

Such a thing as an unexpected night-time journey wasn't actually that unusual for them, quite the opposite; they had enough of them in the last twenty years. The night when Cain was born changed the world, a lot.

xxx

The angelic-possession had been a total disaster, wiping out the vast majority of humanity. – _The weakest-willed are the easiest to turn_. – Great numbers of people, it seemed, had those weak wills, so it was like a plague. Luckily for Jeep, Charlie and the baby – _he wasn't Cain yet, back then_ – they had known what was happening. They had had a traumatic but very valuable experience, and they knew enough to avoid big cities. Though they were never even near one, they heard from other survivors how frightening, how horrible it was. – _They said 'madness'_. – It was hard to imagine normal regular people, your friends, co-workers, neighbors perhaps, or even strangers – _family, that was the worst part_ – suddenly turned into monsters with a yearning to kill. Because it turned out they had no other desires.

And during those two days when their small group was under siege in Paradise Falls, it was all over. The whole of civilization had gone. And what was left by the end of that first apocalyptic week? No government, no authorities and no law-enforcement, no electricity, no phones, no TV, nothing. It seemed that Chaos ruled the Earth, and in fact that was almost true. All the big cities were full of the dead bodies of humans. Those who were possessed… well, the angels had left them. As far as he knew, it had happened when Michael came back for the final battle with the other archangel – _Gabriel, the murderer_ – but they weren't humans anymore, just empty shells, only flesh and animal instincts. Not those creepy killing machines – _like nice old Gladys_ – but still dangerous, though. So, yeah, it was pretty much like the end of the world was nigh.

But still, there was hope. There was that radio transmission they had heard in the Paradise Falls, and there was a rescue camp they had seen from the cliff top. Apparently some military or National Guard forces had been able to set up sanctuaries for those who had managed to escape the extermination. So, it wasn't all bad, you might've said, huh? Maybe you would've thought that after such a disaster people would have had to team up, and start to try and rebuild a normal life together? Oh, you're so naïve. Welcome to the fucking real world. They did nothing like that. Well, a considerable part of them didn't.

It didn't take long, just a few days, and there they were: bands of raiders, going round small towns and lonely farms, searching for anything useful. Very **_well-armed_** raiders, with no intention of sharing the resources they found: food, clean water, medicines, weapons, and fuel, the most valuable things in this wonderful new world. They were clever enough to avoid big cities, and clever enough, too, to understand that all that useful stuff in the small towns wouldn't be waiting for them forever. And no matter how few people had survived, soon those supplies would start to run short. The military that held the so-called Safe Zones didn't have enough personnel to take control of all the territories. So the next big survival problem had nothing to do with any supernatural shit – it was humans themselves.

They knew nothing of this back then. Okay, so traveling in a pickup full of guns could make you over-confident about your safety. Not a good thing, considering they were just two civilians without any special training or survival skills, but with a newborn baby on whom depended the destiny of humanity. For a while they were okay, until, while searching for some supplies for the little one – _Charlie still hadn't decided what his name would be_ – they ran into those fuckers. And all could have ended pretty badly, except that El had turned up.

After all these years, when it came to their safety – _Cain's safety, actually, let's be honest_ – he trusted her completely. She clearly had some emotional issues, but she never allowed that to compromise her mission. She had never once put Cain in danger. She was always by his side, watching, guarding, never relaxing, even when it seemed reasonable to do so. She reminded Jeep of those big predatory cats – _panthers_ – which might look calm, lazy, sleepy even, but at the very next moment could jump at you and tear you to pieces. The resemblance was almost literal, because she was one hell of a fighter, even with her bare hands. And she was **_never_** down to her bare hands. That woman had always been a fucking walking weapons-cache. She always carried enough guns with her to start a small war, or even a big one. He was ready to swear that she even took some of her favorite ones into the bath with her – _the Beretta M92, because of its 15-ns_ _cartridges – _and certainly she always kept some item or other of her impressive arsenal with her while she slept, as they all did.

xxx

So, when Michael's face suddenly turned quite shocked, it hadn't alarmed Jeep. For God's sake, El always could drive people crazy, with ease; maybe she could do it with her own kind as well. But then he heard their next words.

_"Gabriel…"_ said Michael, with a voice full of astonishment and… hope?

_"Surprise surprise," _she answered, in her usual neutral-ironic tone.

_He couldn't believe he had heard it right. Had Michael just called **her** Gabriel?! That couldn't be so, right? But… all those strange things in her behavior, all those pieces he hadn't been able to put together all these years, fell into place now. She…no, **he** was the monster who had killed his father, the one who had got that nice brave girl – Audrey, her name was Audrey – killed, the very one who had tried so hard to kill them all, who hadn't spared even his own brother! _

And when Jeep looked at the features of the girl standing right in front of him, he didn't see the woman who had spent twenty years by his side, who had saved his life far more than once. He saw a mortal enemy; he felt rage, and he wanted to take revenge.

So he aimed at her and shouted, "This is for my father, bitch!"

And then he shot.


	6. Playground

**6. Playground**

Something had gone wrong. She felt it even before she heard her husband scream, before he did that absolutely crazy thing of trying to shoot El.

At first it hadn't all been so bad. The person they'd been waiting for had turned out to be Michael, whom she recognized immediately when he got out of the old silver Chevy. How could she not, considering he was the one who had saved all their lives, considering he was the only reason her baby had even been born? – _Hell, he was the one who had held her hand during childbirth_. – He hadn't changed, not at all; it was like a sort of déjà vu, in fact. Different car and no coat, though. And she was no longer pregnant, raw and young. – _She would've kept that last quality if she could._ – She had survived twenty years in a post-apocalyptic world and she had raised her son – the new messiah.

Was Michael's appearance now and in this place a good sign? She really doubted that, remembering his first visit. – _You don't know, do you?_ – Yeah, she hadn't known back then, and it had been a happy ignorance, until he burst into her life and turned it upside-down. So, his reappearance probably heralded some new sort of trouble. But she never expected it to come so fast, so very fast.

At the same moment as Jeep fired his rifle, El spun to the left, crouched down and took up a firing stance, kneeling on her right knee. Michael twitched, and Charlie realized he'd been shot, though she couldn't see how badly. The next moment he was aiming at Jeep with a gun in his left hand. – _God knows where he had hidden it, because it hadn't been there a moment ago._ _That was one of El's things as well: weapons just seemed to appear in her hands from nowhere_. _At first she had found it creepy, later… well, she had started to find it useful._ – And she recognized that look on his face. – _Open the door_. – She knew that blank, unemotional look only too well…

xxx

_Jeep was kneeling on the ground with a barrel pointed at his forehead. The baby's basket was on the ground as well, right in front of him. The little one was screaming, because that was what his mother was doing. She had struggled desperately, but what could she have done against the two men who were keeping hold of her? _

They had made a huge mistake when they had stopped in this small town ("Population 101, welcome to Desert Rose"). They should've been more careful, but they were so tired… The last two days had been so very exhausting.

First a nice old lady had suddenly turned into some sort of spider-zombie version of herself and tried to kill them, then – hello, guys, I'm the Archangel Michael, and Charlie's baby will be the next messiah. Oh yeah, and God doesn't believe in humanity anymore, so welcome to the Apocalypse. And those nice black-eyed sharp-toothed guys outside, they're angel-possessed and came here to prevent the child being born. Want some more? Even if we somehow handle all that, one of my own kind is coming to kill the baby. Actually that was my job, but I went AWOL.

Holy crap! Could you believe that? And the most incredible thing was that they had made it, although of the eight of them at the beginning only two had made it to the end. – _And the baby was born in the process._ – Even Michael had died. – _Or does it not count if he came back from the dead? This supernatural stuff can easily drive you crazy._

So, when it was finally over, and they found out that there were still normal people somewhere outside, and life seemed not so fucked up after all, they lost it. They acted as if it were the same good old country. But it wasn't.

When they came to a godforsaken settlement that seemed empty (no people, no corpses, nothing), they just started searching for anything useful for the baby and for themselves. – _She would have been glad even to find Dr. Spock, though she was never a big reader, because back then she had no idea what she supposed to do with her baby._ – And they had been caught unawares by three armed men.

Charlie had not had any illusions about what would happen next. Best case scenario, they'd take her with them – _'Nice ass and boobs' said one of them, 'you'll do, honey,'_ – and leave Jeep and the baby alone. Worst case, they'd rape her right then and there, and then they'd kill them all. The strangest thing was that she wasn't afraid for herself, but that even to think about them harming her baby was unbearable. And there was no one there to come and rescue them.

And that was when she saw _**her**_ for the very first time: a slender female figure in black clothes that looked slightly strange – _something about them was wrong, they looked… well, like some kind of costume_ – walking straight towards them, unhurried, unworried, as if nothing special was happening. Just a routine day, with boring people going about their boring business.

When those freaks saw the girl coming, they hadn't been scared. Why would they be? She was alone, good-looking and unarmed. And she definitely hadn't seemed dangerous. Just some pretty girl. So they'd laughed, because now they'd have two chicks instead of one.

She had stopped right in front of the guy who was aiming at Jeep's forehead, and said with a cold, confident voice, "Take care of the baby." And what happened next, happened so fast that Charlie could hardly follow it.

The girl hit the first guy hard in the throat with a clenched fist before he realized what she was doing. As he choked, she twisted his hand, grabbed his gun and turned him round, pushing him away from Jeep. Using him as a live shield, she shot the two men who held Charlie: two shots – two corpses, with tiny accurate holes right in the middle of their foreheads. Then she kicked the first man in the subpopliteal recess, bringing him to his knees.

"Hands on your head. Get your fingers interlaced." She said this in the same tone of voice, and then added to Jeep, "I said, take care of the baby. Which part of that don't you understand?"

Jeep stood up, took the basket, reached across to Charlie and hugged her with his free arm. She threw her arms around his neck and started sobbing.

"And now we'll talk," the girl said to the kneeling man.

"Jesus Christ, you fucking crazy bitch, what have you done?!" he shouted, his voice still broken.

"Let me make it clear to you, when I said 'we'll talk' it meant you're gonna answer my questions and keep your thoughts about me to yourself." A very cold smile twisted her lips. "As for your reference to Him, that's pretty pathetic considering what you've been doing here. Besides, He won't listen to you anyway, so drop it. Now, tell me, were there only three of you, or are there more of your friends out there somewhere?"

"You have no idea what it is you're dealing with, honey. My friends will find you and make you pay. You'll scream until you lose your fucking voice." The anger in his tone was mixed with fear.

"Oh, I see, there were only three of you. Good." She raised her gun, aiming at his forehead.

"Are you fucking deaf? Didn't you hear what I just said?" Now his voice was completely terrified.

"Wait." That was Jeep. He had let go of Charlie and given her the child's basket. She had taken her son from it and was clasping him to her chest. "What if he's telling the truth? Shouldn't we find out more about his buddies?"

"He's lying." There were no doubts in her voice.

"I'm not!" the man shouted, but she ignored him.

"How could you possibly know that?" Jeep approached until he stood beside her.

She gave him a look that made him shiver. "I just know."

He glanced at her neck, which he now saw was covered with a tattoo. Her hands, from what he could see, were covered with it as well. "Oh, God…" he said. "You're one of them. Charlie! She's…"

"Say one more word and I'll have no choice but to shoot him." There was no warning in her voice. It sounded as if she really didn't care at all. "Yes, I am."

"Did he send you?" Charlie asked.

"By 'he', do you mean my Father or my brother?" There was a certain bitter humor in her voice.

"So, which one was it?" Jeep asked.

"Well, that's kind of complicated. Can we talk about it later? Because we have a situation to deal with here right now. This man and his buddies intended to rape your woman and then kill all of you, including the child. So the question is, what should we do about it?"

"Are you asking us?" Charlie said in a low, uncertain voice.

"It's your lives that were at stake, so yeah, I'm asking you."

"We can't just kill him," Jeep said, but without much confidence.

"He wouldn't show you such a mercy." The girl's voice sounded even colder than before.

"Why did you do that to us?" Charlie asked the kneeling man. "We'd done nothing to you."

"Why?" He choked down a laugh. "Look around, babe, it's the end of the fucking world. Open playground, no rules anymore. We just wanted to have some fun before it was all over."

"Shoot him," Charlie said, in a harsh, confident voice.

"What? No!" The shot interrupted Jeep, and the man's body fell to the ground.

The girl's face was completely blank as she did it: not a twitch, and then she lowered the hand with the gun.

"Humans." And her tone of scorn was the very first emotion she had shown.

Then she added: "I'm El, your new protector. Pick up their guns and we'll check this place out properly. I'm gonna make some sort of permanent shelter for us here. We can't keep moving right now, not with the baby. It'll be chaos out there for a while."

"But…" Jeep had started.

"If you wanna live, do as I said. And don't fuck up this time."

Jeep had frowned but complied. Charlie came up to the girl – _no, she wasn't as young as she had seemed earlier: late twenties, certainly no younger_ – and asked quietly, looking at the dead man, "What if I'd said 'let him go'? Would you have done so?"

"Of course not. I would've executed him anyway," El shrugged.

"Executed? You mean killed. Then why did you ask?"

"We don't kill, Charlie, we execute. And I thought it'd be much funnier that way."

xxx

So, she knew that blank look all too well. That was why she shouted desperately, "No, Michael, please don't shoot! Something's wrong with him!"

And then she heard Michael's calm voice: "I know."

What happened next happened really fast. Jeep started to shake rapidly, his face twisting up, and his head looked like it was… spinning around, only his body wasn't.

"Fuck!" El, already straightened up, saw him and exclaimed in agitation. Cain had rushed towards Jeep, but El screamed like hell, "No! Don't go any closer to him! Get away! Get the fuck away from him, Cain!" – _Charlie had never heard her scream like that before._

At the same moment, Michael shouted, "Hurry up, he's changing!"

El rolled across the SUV's hood and kicked the car door. It slammed into Jeep's body and he dropped the rifle. Charlie could have sworn that his eyes went red, but at that very moment El hit him hard in the right temple with her fist, and he fell down unconscious. El instantly turned him face down onto the ground and, taking a pair of handcuffs from her belt, snapped them onto his wrists. Then she held him down, with her knees on his shoulders. "Michael, a little help here!" she snapped.

"Done," he said, already approaching them, still aiming at Jeep, and he added, "Be careful."

"Oh, I fucking will!" she hissed.

"Hey, guys, what the fuck are you doing?" Cain exclaimed. "C'mon, El, leave dad alone."

"Charlie, for God's sake don't let him come near us," said Michael. "Jeep's possessed."

Charlie went numb. "What?! That's not possible. No! No! Jeep!"

And at the very same moment her husband raised his head and said… no, Jeep didn't say, his lips hadn't moved, and that terrifying voice was something that could never belong to her husband: "Jeep's not available, sweetheart, please try later." He chuckled. "Actually, don't. This is pointless." His head spun round, as no human being's could do, and red-flecked eyes stared at El and Michael. "Well, well, well, look what we have here – a fucking family reunion… how touching."


	7. Family, p1

**7. Family **

_He was sitting by the edge of a fountain in one of the most beautiful gardens of Heaven. The grass there was so green and soft that it was just asking to be touched with bare feet. Apparently that was exactly what he had been doing, because his sandals were on the ground and his bare feet were propped on the rim of the fountain. Everywhere there were countless flowers of many kinds, their colors, forms and fragrances varying, but everything together in such harmony. The leaves of the trees were rustling slightly, like a sort of music, and the fountain's waterfall made part of the melody too._

He looked young, so young that if he'd been human he could've been a teenager. He wasn't human; he was one of His Host. It was hard to believe that, though, considering his slender figure and big eyes that seemed so full of astonishment and joy at everything that life was giving to him, and the slight but happy smile that rarely seemed to leave his lips. He was full of light. He _**was**_ the light.

At that moment he was holding a sketchbook on his knees, drawing something intently in pencil, his face focused and serious; he had even bitten his lower lip. So, when a heavy but gentle hand suddenly touched his shoulder he was caught unawares. He raised his head and turned his face to the newcomer, a wonderful smile appearing on his lips when he saw who it was.

The brother who stood next to him was certainly worth looking at. He was tall, very tall in fact, and extremely well-built, and his face was so beautiful that it was almost painful even for his own kind to look at. It was perfect. And his eyes were a very strange color, such a dark blue that sometimes they seemed black – _he was the only one of them who had those instead of the usual bright, glowing blue _– and they hypnotized you if you dared to look at them for too long. His huge, snow-white wings were folded behind his shoulders; his hair was the same white, shaded with silver. He held a large mace in his left hand, although in his hands it didn't seem all that large.

"I didn't expect you back so soon," said the younger archangel, in a beautiful, melodic voice.

"Does that mean you didn't miss me?" There was a hint of a smile in the elder's deep tone.

"It means I'm happy. But you already knew that." He smiled back, set aside his sketchbook and put his feet down on the ground. "So, have you already seen our Father?"

"No. You're the first I've come to see since I got back."

"Oh, you should've visited Him first, brother," the younger one said, in a tone of slight agitation.

"Don't worry, He'll understand, He has always understood. He knows what a strong bond we share. Besides, visiting him will be the very next thing I'll do, once we've talked," the elder replied, in a fully-confident voice.

"So, did you succeed in your mission?" He tried to keep a straight face, because for his brother to have failed was simply impossible. He was the best of their kind, the very first and most beloved son of their Father. Lucifer.

"Yes, actually, I did." The elder could not help but smile. He loved the joy and light the younger one had always spread around. He loved _**him**_.

Though they all, as His children, had spiritual ties, some of them were closer to each other than to their other brothers. The nearest human term would be 'soul-mates', although that would be a very inexact description.

"Can I see your drawing?' Lucifer reached out his hand for the sketchbook.

"It's not done yet, but sure, you could take a look at it." And he held out his sketchbook to his brother.

Lucifer looked at the picture and frowned. Firstly, the drawing was dark, which wasn't usual for his brother's pictures, and secondly… he really didn't know where the younger could've seen such a view; it was a bare cliff-top, gloomy and dreary. It was only a pencil sketch, but for some reason he knew it would have looked no better if it had been in color. Most of his attention, though, was drawn to a dark figure on the left-hand side of the picture.

It was definitely one of their own kind, thought his wings were black – _definitely black, he knew that for sure, even though the whole sketch was dark_ – and he recognized him immediately, even from this back view. He couldn't help but recognize that sword, so well known all over The Grace, like his own mace. It was the last member of the Three of them. Michael. There was something in his features, something that suggested he had endured harsh times, that he had been through a lot, and had been upset and worried. The right-hand part of the picture was empty, as if something – _someone_ – was supposed to be there, but was missing. It was a very disturbing sketch, in fact.

"You don't like it, brother, do you?" the younger said in a low voice. "I've done it all wrong."

"No, it's not that, it's just… it's so sad and full of apprehension. Why is that so? Were you upset somehow while you were drawing this?" There was sincere concern in his voice.

"No… I was actually going to draw something very different, but… it just started to draw itself. I don't think I should show it to Michael, should I?" he asked uncertainly.

"You shouldn't show me what, Gabriel?" Michael had appeared as if from nowhere, though in actuality he had stepped from the glowing arch; they had just hadn't noticed the movement.

He wasn't as tall as Lucifer, and he wasn't as sensationally beautiful – _none of them was_ – but he definitely had something in him that made him special even amongst those perfect creatures, the archangels. Actually, he was special; he was the second general of His Host, next to his elder brother.

"Brother," said Lucifer, and they both stepped towards each other and embraced briefly.

"I felt your presence," Michael said. "So, what is this you two were going to hide from me? Is it some kind of surprise?"

"Ummm… yeah, sort of," said Gabriel, and blushed. "But you can't look at it now, because it wouldn't be a surprise then." He took his sketchbook back from Lucifer and closed it quickly.

"Speaking of surprises," said Michael, "I have some news for both of you. Well, I'm not completely sure that it's me who should tell you this, but on the other hand…"

"Let me guess," Gabriel interrupted him, "our Father went creative again!"

"How could you know that?" Michael was clearly surprised.

"I… I just know." Gabriel looked embarrassed.

"He's a creator, Michael," said Lucifer. "He's supposed to feel things like that." But there was a hint of anxiety in his look at Gabriel.

"Right. Sorry, junior, I'd almost forgotten that unlike us simple fighters you're capable of these amazing things."

"I'd say you don't need to do those 'amazing things' because you _**are**_ amazing," Gabriel said sincerely.

They both laughed.

"See, he did it again! And _**this**_ is truly amazing," Lucifer said, still laughing. "So, what are these creations? I really, really hope that it's something completely different from the last ones. Those seraphim flying around everywhere with their endless songs and chatting… just thinking about more creations along those lines would be enough to make me to consider leaving home."

"Oh, don't worry about that, brother, these are completely different. Well, they haven't any wings, that's for sure, though I'm not certain about the chatting and singing. They can talk, you know," Michael answered with a smile.

"I don't want to leave home," said Gabriel. "I like it here. So I think even if these are as… demanding as seraphim, we should work it out somehow. Besides, seraphim are kinda cute. Well, they are when they're silent… which isn't very often. Still, cute though."

He was interrupted by a new burst of his brothers' laughter.

"According to you, Gab, everything and anything is cute, beautiful, amazing and so on," Lucifer said.

"How could it not be so, brother? Those are all His creations, as we are." Michael's voice was unexpectedly serious. "So, I'm completely with Gabriel on this one."

"How could you not be so, brother? You two are so close." Somehow this reply sounded slightly annoyed - only the barest emotion, but Michael caught it. When Lucifer spoke again, though, it was already gone. "So," he said, "what are these wonderful new creations of our Father?"

"He named them 'humans'," Michael replied.


	8. Family, p2

**8. Family, p.2**

Cain knew only too well what the word 'possessed' meant. How could he not, considering it had all started because of him? So, though he had never actually seen anyone angelically-possessed, or at least not while they were _being_ possessed, he had seen enough of what El used to call 'empty vessels', and he understood completely what it meant for the man he was used to calling 'dad'.

That was why he was refusing to accept it. For God's sake, no-one had been possessed for what, like, twenty years? And when he had asked El once whether something like that could ever happen again – _and __who would know better than an ex-archangel? _– she'd cut him off with one short word. "Unlikely," she had said. And he'd had no good reason to doubt her. He had trusted her with his life, always.

And now here they were: Michael, this other member of El's kind, had barely arrived and everything had already been turned upside-down. – _Just like mom used to tell him._ – Jeep was lying on the ground with his hands cuffed behind him, and El was sitting on his back, pinning his shoulders down with her knees, as if she was afraid he could still do anything in that supremely uncomfortable position. Michael was pointing his handgun at Jeep's head.

Before Cain had heard that terrifying voice, he had thought that they were being just a little bit over-reactive.

Had Jeep had even the slightest chance of actually shooting El? Frankly, Cain doubted it. He knew better than anyone how little she ought to be taken lightly. But he saw that Michael had been shot; his arm or his shoulder, Cain wasn't sure, and he understood well enough what El's reaction might be.

Even when Jeep had started to shake, Cain had thought – _wanted to think_ – that it was just some sort of stress. But he already knew the truth.

There had been no more room for doubt when he heard that voice. – _God, it had made him shiver._ – When that creature inside his father's body had choked out a short, harsh laugh, Cain had experienced fear, and fear was the feeling he despised most. – "_Fear is a liability," El had always said. "Foresight is a virtue."_ – So he fought it in his own way.

"Well, well, well," the creature said, "look what we have here – a fucking family reunion… how touching."

"Who the hell are you?" Cain said.

His father's face turned to him and he saw those eyes: pure darkness with flickers of red, like fire-sparks in the depths of night.

"Oh, so it's you, the new messiah, the one and only hope of your pathetic kind. It's Cain, right? Well, boy, come closer and I'll tell you."

"Don't listen to him, Cain, not a single word," Michael said in a harsh voice. "Don't go near him."

"What are you scared of, kid? I won't bite. Well, not right now, not when my lover's holding me down this hard." It stared up at El. "So, you like to be on top now, huh, Gab? I'll remember that."

Cain saw Michael's jaw tighten and his gun-hand twitch slightly, but he said nothing.

"Nice to see you too, brother." El had remained completely calm. "Why are you here?"

"Brother?" Cain couldn't help but interrupt her. "This thing is your _brother_, too? So tell me, El, exactly how many of these unpleasant relatives have you got?"

"See, Michael." _It_ laughed again. "You and I are unpleasant relatives to our precious Gabriel. Well, according to his boy-toy. Oh wait, no, it's 'her' now. Well, that's a somewhat disturbing situation, but I can see a lot of potential in it. Can you? It's just that so many things could be done with this body…"

"Shut up!" Michael snapped.

"Shut the fuck up!" Charlie added unexpectedly. "I don't give a damn who or what you are; just get the fuck away from my family."

"You should try to calm your mammy down, kid, she's really annoying me," the creature said in a cold, peremptory tone, the voice of someone accustomed to command. Then he added, "Well, the stupid questions are annoying me as well. But considering you and I are gonna be buddies of a sort, the answer would be _nomen illis legio*._"

"That lame Latin of yours isn't going to impress me," Cain snapped. "_Scientia potentia est**_. I'd recognized you, _primus inter pares***_, your arrogance preceded you. We'll never be anything but enemies."

"'_Never'_ is a very ill-advised word, kid. Try not to use it; that would be wise. You should listen to me first, and only then make your decision. Well, at least if you care about your daddy's life."

"Everything he's gonna tell you will be falsehoods, Cain." Michael's tone was full of confidence. "He's been called the 'Father of Lies' with good reason."

"_Oh, the truth, I'm afraid, is never that simple_, Michael. You should know that, if anyone should." It chuckled, and then added, "I won't lie. I can't. I'm a fucking archangel, no matter what, and the rule still stands. You trust Gabriel, right, kiddo? So ask him, or, I'm sorry, _her_, and she'll have no choice but to confirm it. Or she could just refuse to give you an answer. Those are the rules of the game. Either way, you'd know I'm telling the truth."

Cain knew only too well that Michael was right: he shouldn't speak with the _Fallen_. But it was Jeep's body that that thing had possessed, and it was his mother beside him, trying really hard not to sob, her eyes full of pain and despair. He knew how much she loved Jeep. So he stared at El and said, "Is he telling the truth?"

There was the slightest hesitation before she answered him, her voice deadly serious. "Yes and no. Yes, he wouldn't lie to you, but by telling the truth he would lie to you. Don't go down this route, Cain. Take Charlie somewhere else and let us handle it. Please. "

He couldn't remember her ever using that last word before. So, he wrapped his arm around Charlie's shoulders and pressed her to his chest and said in a low, soft voice, "It's all right, mom. Don't be scared. El would do everything possible to save dad." Then he gave the possessed man a hard look and said, "Go to Hell."

Then he and Charlie climbed into the SUV, shutting the doors behind them so that they could see what was happening but could not hear.

Michael and El exchanged a glance. Her lips curled in a hint of a smile, and he nodded as if in agreement.

"So, it's just the three of us," the Fallen said. "Just like in the good old days. Any suggestions what we're going to do? Cos I really don't think you're gonna kill me right now, _again_. It'd definitely upset the boy, and you two certainly don't want that. In fact, this whole situation looks very like a stalemate to me."

"Now we'll talk," Michael said in a cold voice.

"Yeah, it's time to deal with family issues, _lover_," El added caustically.

* * *

*_ nomen illis legio _(lat) their name is legion

_**__ scientia potentia est _(lat) knowledge is power

*** _primus inter pares _(lat) first among equals


	9. Conversation

**9****. Conversation**

_It was a hard day's night. El made them check out literally the whole settlement, every house from attic to basement, every garage and every shed. Thank God it was a very small settlement, with only one store and gas station, a place very like Paradise Falls, and a small tourist shop at the opposite end of town, if you could call it a town when it had only one street and was really just a stretch of highway with a few houses on each side. There wasn't even a drugstore, so El told them to collect all the medicines they could find. _

_And they buried those three bodies, or rather Jeep did so by himself, because El said she didn't intend to waste her time on shit like that and that fire would've done just as well. _

_Then they selected one house as their residence. It had its own generator, so they wouldn't be reduced to using candles. When they were finally settled into the new place, the baby fed and asleep, the guns cleaned up and reloaded, and there were only a few items left to be sorted, only then did El ask Charlie to leave the baby with Jeep and bring some medical supplies to the bathroom. It was long after midnight._

"Here's the First Aid kit you were asking for," Charlie said as she entered the bathroom. Then she stopped and exclaimed, "Oh, God!"

El was standing near the mirror, and it was the sight of her bare back covered with dry blood that had horrified Charlie, blood from huge wounds torn across on her shoulder blades. El looked at Charlie's reflection in the mirror and said, "Can you sew?"

Charlie nodded.

"Well, do it then."

"We haven't found any painkillers yet," Charlie pointed out.

"I don't need them."

Charlie cleaned El's back properly, put antiseptic on the wounds and then started to suture them up. "What are these?" she asked.

"What do you think?" El replied coldly.

"That they used to be wings," Charlie said in a low, very careful voice. Then, after a couple of minutes' silence, she added, "Why didn't you come earlier?"

"I'd been walking through the desert for seven or eight hours before I found you. And there weren't any taxis free." El's voice was full of irony.

"No, I mean why didn't you come with Michael in the first place? There were some people with us when it all started, and they're all dead now. Maybe if you'd…"

"It was impossible. I was on another mission," El said sharply.

"Did you succeed in it?" Jeep' voice suddenly broke in. He turned out to be standing in the doorframe, leaning his back on its edge. "Baby's fine," he added immediately.

"No," El replied after a short pause, "I failed."

"So Michael sent some angelic loser to protect us?" Jeep smirked. "Or it's a sort of punishment, like community service?"

"Jeep!" Charlie's voice was full of reproach. She made a last stitch and cut the thread. "What's wrong with you? She saved our lives."

"And I really appreciate that," he said, without any trace of appreciation in his voice. "But Michael said that I'm your protector, Charlie, yours and the baby's, so why did he suddenly change his mind and send someone else?"

"It's not like he's never been wrong before," El replied calmly. Then she turned her back to the mirror and looked at it over her shoulder.

Charlie made a slight noise of embarrassment and Jeep choked with coughing.

"What?" Apparently for El, standing half-naked with her torso bared in front of them was a perfectly natural thing to do.

"N…nice tattoos," Jeep finally managed to say. He had tried really hard not to blush but had failed.

They were certainly worth looking at. Starting from her neck, where they looked like some sort of collar, they spread across her shoulders, arms and hands, reaching to her fingers. Her chest was covered with them as well, even her medium-sized breasts, and they had already seen that her back was tattooed as well. It looked like she was wearing a lace shirt, only she wasn't. The tattoos looked like writing in a language they couldn't recognize, in unknown schemata.

El cocked her head at Jeep and said, "Speaking of which… take off your shirt."

"Excuse me?" he replied, obviously shocked.

"Take off your shirt," she repeated, in the same emotionless tone.

"Why would I do such a thing?" There was a note of rising anger in his voice.

"Because I told you to," she replied confidently.

"Go to Hell!" he snapped.

"Oh, I feel like I'm already there," she said with a sigh. Then in one quick movement she reached for him and pinned him to the doorway with her hand on his throat. "Take. Off. Your. Fucking. Shirt. Now." There was something in her voice that frightened Jeep even more than her fingers clenched around his throat. It felt like if she squeezed them harder she could easily crush it.

"Stop it, you're hurting him!" Charlie cried.

"No, not yet, but I can do," El replied matter-of-factly. "I need to see those instructions Michael gave you." And she took her hand away.

"God, you could've just asked!" Charlie said angrily, while Jeep was taking off his shirt and swearing.

"I just did," El shrugged.

"Bitch," Jeep mumbled.

"I heard that." She said it without any annoyance, and then touched the tattoo on his hand gently. "Interesting. Now turn around." He complied, and she stared for a couple of moments at those on his back. Then she touched those, too, and said, "Very interesting. You can get dressed now."

Jeep looked at his hand and made a sound of surprise. The tattoos that had appeared while they were trying to escape from Gabriel, that Michael had said were supposed to be the instructions for what they should do next, had gone.

"What did you do?" he exclaimed.

"I've read them," El replied. "So you don't need them anymore. Besides, you couldn't have understood them anyway."

"Oh, yeah, and what if you leave?"

"No, I'm not going anywhere."

"How reassuring," he said sarcastically, and then left the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

"You don't like us much, I mean humans, do you?" Charlie asked.

"No, not really, but that doesn't matter," El replied without thinking. "I'm not here to like you, I'm here to protect your child, and _that_ I can do without any liking."

"So why were you so hard on Jeep just now?"

"I wasn't."

"He's a good man; he loves me and the baby."

"I know. See, Charlie, to be in love with someone isn't enough to keep them safe. He's supposed to be your defender, but he's not ready. In spite of all you've been through, he's still not ready, and he should be. By denting his pride just a little, I had provoked him into becoming what he must become," El said confidently.

"So, how come angels know so much about men's psychology?" Charlie couldn't help but smile. "Are you gonna tell me that you used to deal with it _up_ _there_?" She pointed at the ceiling.

"It's not about men, Charlie," El said in a strange voice, "It's about pride. So yeah, I'm familiar with this particular concept."

xxx

_When he reached the Golden Gates, the only entrance to Heaven, his brother was already there waiting, looking out through the glowing archway. Though he was standing with his back to Michael, he spoke as soon as he could be heard. _

"Thanks for coming so quickly. I know my request was pretty strange but I really needed to talk to you. I didn't know where else to go. " His voice was disturbed and confused, that last emotion one Michael had never expected to find in his elder brother.

"How could I not come when you asked me to? Tell me what's wrong, Lucifer, why are you so… not yourself?" Michael asked in a soft, friendly tone.

His brother turned around. Michael saw his face, and it struck him again that Lucifer apparently did not know how to say what he wanted to say. That was unprecedented and truly disturbing because his elder brother was always pretty confident in himself. So Michael just stood silently beside him and waited for him to speak.

Finally Lucifer found words again. "I know this must sound crazy, but there's something wrong with him."

"What's wrong, and with whom?" Michael was perplexed. "Do you mean Gabriel? Has Junior done something to confuse you this much? That's hard to imagine, though."

"No, of course not. Gabriel has nothing to do with it." Even a simple mention of the youngest of them brightened Lucifer's face a little, but not for long. "I'm talking about Him."

"Oh," Michael replied, even more confused. "You were right, that does sound a little bit… well, you know. Perhaps if you could just tell me what exactly…"

"Can't you see anything for yourself, Michael? You should, considering how much time you've spent lately by His side, and with _them_." Now he sounded really annoyed.

"By '_them_', do you mean…?" Michael said, still full of incomprehension for his brother's strange behavior.

"Humans. Yeah, that's exactly what I meant."

"So, what about them?" Michael asked calmly. "I mean, sure, they're not the best of his creations, and yeah, they can be a little bit annoying, but why has that stressed you out so much? It wouldn't be the first time His experiments have made us smile, remember? And they're just so new…"

"You still don't get it, do you, Michael? He doesn't consider them one of his experiments. He doesn't even consider them just His youngest children. No, do you want to know what He told me? That they are his most beautiful and cherished creations. That He feels related to them. How could that even be possible? As you said yourself, they are far from perfection, and if He feels so close to them... it could mean only one thing: He is not perfect."

"Listen, Luc, you should be more careful what you say about such a subject." Now Michael was terrified. There was something in Lucifer's tone… emotions that he definitely wasn't supposed to feel: bitterness, anger, disappointment and jealousy. "I understand. You always were His favorite and most beloved son, and you certainly deserve it, because you're the best of our kind. But try to think of it in another way; do you remember when you were the only one, and had none of us, your brothers? Do you remember how happy you were when he allowed us to be born? Because the very first thing that I remember from the moment I started to exist was His light and your face, smiling, full of love. And I remember how happy we were when our younger brothers started to come in the world. You should know better than anyone that the youngest ones are more… well, maybe not loved, but treasured. Isn't that how you feel for Gabriel? Compared to humans, we are His elder children, so is it so surprising that He's fond of them right now? Just give it a little time, brother."

"Time for what, for Him to understand how pathetic they are and how unworthy of His love?" Lucifer said dryly. "Don't you see, Michael, they are just His new toys? Once broken, He'll throw them away, and that's exactly what He's doing to us now."

"You're wrong, brother," Michael said sorrowfully.

"I'm not!" Lucifer exclaimed. "He doesn't give a damn about us, not anymore. How else could He have said that we should _**serve**_ them as we serve Him, that we should_** bow**_ before them! Are you ready for that, brother?"

There were a couple of moments of deep silence, and then Michael said, "If that is His will, so be it."

"Well, I won't tolerate it. None of us deserves such a humiliation," Lucifer said coldly. "So the question is – are you with me, Michael?"

"It's not you that's speaking now, brother, it's that dented pride of yours. Don't go down this route, please; nothing good will come of it. We exist to carry out His wishes. He gave us so much. Should we defy Him over such a small requirement? All he's asking of us is to embrace his new children."

"To bow to them," the elder archangel said sarcastically.

"Yes, if that's necessary."

"Never!" His voice made Michael shiver. Never had he heard such a tone from him. It reminded him of their Father's voice, the power of it, but their Father never spoke to them in such a tone. Than Lucifer turned his back to him and said coldly, "Thank you for the conversation. That will be all for now."

Michael sighed and started to make his way back into Heaven, but then he stopped and said, "Don't go to Gabriel with this. It would upset him a lot. Don't make him choose between you and our Father. You wouldn't like the result." And then he left.


	10. Déjà vu

**10. ****Déjà vu**

"Talk?" The Fallen's tone was full of sarcasm. He looked at Michael. "Do you actually think I'm like the villain in some idiotic human movie? That I'm gonna stand here and tell you all about my plans? Oh, I'm almost hurt that you could underestimate me so much, _brother_."

"I thought you _wanted_ to talk. Why else would you have come?" Michael replied calmly. "You weren't really expecting to kill me or Gabriel just like that, were you, _brother_? Because if you were, my so-called 'underestimation' is pretty accurate."

"I can see you're bleeding, Michael. Hell, I can even smell it; such a satisfying sensation… once again." He gave a short, harsh laugh. "Not actually my doing, but still, such a pleasant thought."

"It's just a scratch." Michael was looking not at the possessed man but at El. He saw a flicker in her eyes and her lips tightening, but her face retained its same cold, blank look.

"Maybe, for now. I'll see what I can do about that, though, and…"

"Bored now," El interrupted him suddenly. "Why don't you skip all this '_you're gonna die_' bullshit and tell us what you really want?"

"Can't wait to get rid of me, lover, and have a nice little chitchat with your dearest Michael?" In spite of his mocking tone she suspected he was really agitated, but he controlled his voice quickly enough that when he spoke again he sounded merely sarcastic. "It's pretty obvious, actually. I want back what used to be mine."

At that very moment he surged into sudden movement, shoving El from him, rolling over immediately and attempting to jump to his feet. – _Jeep by himself could never have done something like that._ – Michael's finger was about to pull the trigger, but El cried "No!" and tripped Jeep's body at the ankle so that he fell down, this time onto his back; it took her only an instant to throw herself on top on him again.

"Oh, do that again, please, Gab… it feels so good." There was obvious mockery in his tone, and yet not only that. There was something… something else. He was staring at her intently with some sort of urge, and to see _that_ look on Jeep's face was truly disturbing.

She thrust her gun-barrel right against his neck. "Does that feel good too? Tell me, _brother_, do you really think this stupid act of yours is actually gonna get to me at all, after everything you've done? Let me give you a clue: no, so drop it. I'm getting kinda tired of this shit. So let's get down to business, if there is any business. Otherwise, bye-bye, and don't bother coming back."

He gave her a curious look. "You've changed, Gabriel, a lot. But I don't mind, that's fine by me. In fact, it makes things even more interesting."

"You heard her." Michael's voice was shaking with anger. "Say what you want to say and then go back where you belong. You're a disgrace to us and you're a disgrace even to the memory of what we had long ago."

"Speaking of memories… tell me, Michael, how did it feel when the very one whom you loved so much was killing you, huh? When he was standing beside your dying body and looking at you as if you meant nothing to him, as if you weren't even worthy of existence, just because you'd dared for once to ignore Daddy's orders! Does that situation sound familiar? Does it ring any bells?" His voice had grown louder and louder until in the end he was almost shouting, and then he turned to El. "And you… you disappointed me so fucking much. Turned out you were actually capable of killing Michael, and _that_ I would never have expected. It was quite a show, I can tell you. I almost felt sorry for him… oops, no, I didn't, that was the best day of my Hell-existence. You were so close to me then, after all that had happened - I felt it, your anger, your incomprehension, your doubts in Him - that you only needed to take one more step, and what the fuck did you do instead? Oh, you followed _his_ lead and took _his_ place… which is really pathetic; you chose him over me, again, and that kinda hurts, lover."

"It wasn't about you or him," El said dryly. "I failed our Father and I paid the price. So did you. But unlike you, I went on to do the right thing, considering that you had disappointed of my actions, and I'm glad."

"Open your fucking eyes!" Lucifer shouted. "He sent you to kill your beloved Michael and execute an innocent child, and when you had managed the first task and were about to do the second, He let Michael be reborn and sent him to stop _you_ from accomplishing the mission _He had given you_. So what exactly does He have to do to you, for you to start thinking for yourself and to throw away that blind fucking belief in Him? Don't you ever learn, Gabriel?"

"I've learnt a lot more than I ever wanted, thanks to you, brother," she said coldly, a slight note of bitterness in her voice. "But that doesn't matter now. What I really want to learn is, why you are here, now? How is it possible?"

"Why don't you ask him?" Lucifer laughed, looking at Michael. "I bet you would love the answer, and I'm eager to hear you two having that conversation. But, as you were always my dearest, I'll tell you this: it's my turn to make a move in the game."

"You think this is some fucking game?"

"I know this is some fucking game, and I'm quite aware of the rules, unlike you, Gab. Seems to me like Daddy didn't even bother to let you into them before He set you at the chessboard; He used all of you like pawns. How disrespectful of Him! But that's His way. Although, of course, He made an exception for our dear brother, as He always did."

"Gabriel, don't listen to him. That's not how… " Michael was beginning, but Lucifer interrupted him.

"Please, let me finish, because that's precisely how it was. I defied His whims, and I was punished. You do the exact same thing and what do we see? You're the favorite. Poor Gab's is the hardest case, punished for obeying His will."

"It's okay, Michael." El managed a small smile, although it was clear from her eyes that the Fallen's words had hurt her. "I know him too well not to interpret his words correctly."

Then she stared into the face of the possessed man and said in an unexpectedly soft voice, "He still loves you, you know. After all you've done to all of us… He still does. And you love Him, no matter how desperately you're trying to deny it. I can feel it. Defy your pride and ask for His forgiveness."

"Well, love can be such a bitch. Right, Gab?"

"Gabriel's right," Michael said. "It's difficult for me to understand, but it's true; He still loves you, despite all the ruination you've caused. Listen to Gab, just for once. There must be another way."

"I believe I have a better plan." Lucifer's voice was cold and confident. "And there is no other way."

Michael and El exchanged a glance; this was a phrase that brought with it very painful memories.

xxx

_They stood facing each other: an archangel with huge black wings, holding a large mace in his hand, staring at the lean figure of a man with his head lowered, carrying a submachine gun. _

The man raised his eyes. "I knew he'd send you, Gabriel. You were always so eager to please him."

Did he understand what that meant to Gabriel, had he remembered? Gabriel couldn't be sure - they hadn't spoken of it for a thousand years - but if he had, the words were truly cruel. Gabriel didn't allow his pain to cloud his judgment, though; he was on a mission and his orders were clear, so there was only a slight trace of emotion – _anger_ – in his voice when he answered.

"Unlike you. The rebellious son."

The man's eyes widened and he raised his head as if he didn't believe what he had just heard. He stared at Gabriel intently, but couldn't read anything from his face except the slightest hint of sorrow.

The archangel shook his head as if to dispel his thoughts, and added in a matter-of-fact tone, "Your wings. They would have helped you now."

"To not feel that burden is a dream," the man replied, calmly and confidently.

Gabriel restrained a sigh. He had always been like that, not really giving much thought for himself, and that had been fine, because that was how they were supposed to be, how they'd been created. Yeah, it had been fine until now, when his concern for others – _humans, humans yet again, damn them_ – brought them here, brought up those memories Gabriel had tried so hard to avoid. When he spoke again his voice was trembling, and he hated that as much as he hated the words: "You think you can defy Him and not pay the price?"

The man started to approach him slowly. "The child lives. It doesn't matter what happens to me." He reached Gabriel, and they stood facing each other, so close that they could almost feel each other's body heat.

Gabriel was tempted to exclaim – '_Does it matter to you what'll happen to me after I'm forced to stop you?' _- but managed to control himself. Instead, with an air of foreboding, he said, "Yours is a fool's sacrifice, Michael. You can help them run, but they won't escape. Neither will you, my brother."

xxx

_Michael looked at his brother's face, so cold, so blank, not a trace of warmth even in his beautiful eyes. It was so painful, because in spite of this whole horrible situation he couldn't stop loving him, and even if he could he wouldn't._

He wanted so badly for Gabriel to understand him, he wanted him by his side, for Michael was sure that he was doing the right thing in trying to give mankind a chance of survival. But he didn't know how to explain that to Gabriel. - _They brought this judgement upon themselves. - They are just lost._ - And when he heard his last words he began to fear that no words could ever convince him. And he said simply, "I'm not running anymore."

Gabriel blinked, and suddenly Michael no longer saw a cold-blooded warrior, the very one who had been His hand of chastisement for centuries; he saw the Gabriel from the past, before the world had been turned upside-down. He saw his little brother, confused, scared, in pain, and this time it was he, Michael, who had caused it.

Without thinking he raised his hand and touched Gabriel's cheek gently. Then, trying to make his voice as convincing as he could, he said, "That's enough. There's another way."

And just for a couple of moments he believed he'd managed it; Gabriel was hesitating, obviously unsure what to do, his eyes full of unshed tears. He squeezed Michael's hand as if he were afraid that if he let him go he would disappear.

What happened next, then, was more than unexpected. He raised his head and said in a low, confident voice, "There is no other way." Then he thrust Michael away harshly.

And Michael knew only too well what that meant.


	11. Tension

**11. ****Tension**

Once again, as so many times before, Gabriel was sitting by the edge of the fountain in his favorite of Heaven's gardens. This time, though, the sketchbook from which he was usually inseparable was laid on the fountain's rim, forgotten, disregarded by its thoughtful, abstracted owner. There was both sadness and agitation in his expression, for he knew that something was going on between his Father and his elder brother, something not good, something that had never happened before and should not have happened at all. No-one had told him anything, which was fair enough given his youth, but he knew that his beloved elder brothers had been trying really hard to avoid each other, though in his presence they had both been pretending – _well, they had tried to pretend_ – that everything was alright. But even if he hadn't _seen_ it he had _felt_ it; this disturbing feeling… a foreboding of evil.

Something had changed even in the air; it was so quiet, abnormally quiet. All the sounds that normally filled The Grace were gone, and even the omnipresent seraphim seemed to have disappeared. Only the leaves on the trees and the water of the fountain broke the silence, but today their song was gentle and sad; everything was different now.

So there he sat by the fountain's edge, saddened and lonely, waiting for Lucifer and Michael to come back from conversing with their Father. In spite of his forlornness, there was still some hope in his expression; surely all the tension he felt was just some deplorable misunderstanding, and maybe, no, surely, it would be gone after they had talked, which they were supposed to be doing right now. And then everything would be the way it used to be, the way it should be. – _He tried so hard to convince himself that he almost succeeded._ –There was nothing to do but sit and wait.

Suddenly there was a flash of light and someone dropped from the archway to the ground. He didn't recognize the figure, though it was definitely one of his brothers, but looking truly awful: covered with bruises and blood, his clothes a complete mess, his wings crushed and singed, and _black_.

Within a moment Gabriel was kneeling beside him, offering help. The archangel raised his head; it was Rafael, looking dizzy and semi-conscious, his lips moving silently as if he was trying to say something but couldn't. Then his eyes closed.

Gabriel tried calling for help, but no-one answered. He had the sudden sensation of being totally cut off from his relatives. He looked around desperately and then his gaze fell on the fountain.

"Come on," he said, and tried to get Rafael up, but couldn't; he was too heavy for Gabriel's strength. "Work with me, brother, we need to get you there!" He shook him.

Rafael opened his eyes, his expression becoming more alert. He blinked at Gabriel and then his face filled with fear. It was the first time Gabriel had seen such an emotion provoked by his own presence.

"Raf, it's okay, it's just me, so you're safe now. Don't worry," he said in a soft, reassuring tone. "We need to get you to the water. Its touch will cure you, but I can't do it alone, and I can't call for help because I can't feel anyone right now. So please, work with me."

Rafael shook his head. "Can't walk. Legs broken," he said with a harsh voice, and lost consciousness again.

Only then did Gabriel notice that Rafael's legs didn't look right, that they were lying on the ground in an unnatural way. Gabriel gave a cry of sorrow; he couldn't even imagine the pain that Rafael must have been in, and for the first time in his life he felt anger, towards whatever – _or_ _whoever_ – had done this to his brother. That feeling gave him more strength than he had thought he possessed, and he hoisted Rafael's body on his back and carried him to the fountain, where he laid him in the water, supporting his head and cleaning the blood from his face.

It didn't take long for the elixir of life to do its job. Rafael regained consciousness and managed to stand up without Gabriel's help. He still looked disheveled, but his clothes were the last thing Gabriel cared about right now.

"What happened to you?" he asked. "Was it some kind of accident, or… were you attacked?" The latter suggestion seemed completely absurd to him; for God's sake, who could have attacked one of His Host?

Rafael gave him a hard, distrustful look. "You don't know?"

"I don't know what?" He was starting to feel annoyed. That was new as well.

"How is it possible that you don't know? We're at war, Gabriel!"

"War… what war? I don't understand. Who's our enemy?"

His obvious confusion made Rafael believe him, but it also made him aware that he was about to destroy Gabriel, maybe not literally, but by the things he had to tell him. But it wasn't as if he had a choice, anyway, so he swallowed hard and said, "A fratricidal war. Your… our brother, Lucifer, has raised a mutiny."

"A mutiny, against whom?" Gabriel didn't seem to have understood – _had refused to understand_ – Rafael's words, and Rafael comprehended this only too well. But in spite of the sympathy he felt for his younger brother he just didn't have time to make it easy.

"A mutiny against our Father," he said dryly. "And he claimed that those of us who haven't followed his lead are traitors to our kind. You see my wings? He said that those of us who were ready to bow before the mud were not worthy of white wings, so those loyal to our Father now have black. That's how much power he has. That's why I was frightened when I saw you: you wings are still white, Gabriel."

"This can't be true! It's some kind of horrible mistake!"

"Does the state I'm in look like some kind of mistake to you? You wanna know who did this to me? Baliel. He's fighting on Lucifer's side."

Baliel was Rafael's soul-mate. Gabriel bit his lower lip, looked aside and said, "I'm sorry." Then he asked in a low, lifeless voice, "How many have followed this madness?"

"Their name is legion. Gab, he is… he _was_ our general, he could be so convincing and he is strong, he's so incredibly strong… I don't know if we can make it."

"What about our Father?"

"I don't know, he's blocked our connection. We can't talk, not to each other, not to Him."

"What about Michael?"

"He's leading our army. Last time I saw him he was fighting Lucifer. He is the only one who has any chance of standing against him."

"No, he's not the only one," Gabriel said, and his voice made Rafael shiver. "Take me there."

"No, you can't go in there, you're not a fighter, and it's a real massacre out there. You won't even be able to reach them."

"I will." Gabriel touched his collar. "I am one of His Host, and if I must be a fighter, I'll become a fighter."

He stepped away from Rafael and closed his eyes. Rafael saw an unbearably bright flash of cold, blue-white light, and Gabriel's figure disappeared in the fire.

xxx

_It had been twenty long years since that day, time enough for them to get used to what had happened back then in the first days of the Apocalypse, but that didn't stop those memories being painful. For both of them the mental anguish was keen, and made even worse by the fact that they hadn't talked since that final fight at the cliff-top. Too much had stayed unspoken and unresolved. _

Looking at their darkened faces, Lucifer gave a harsh laugh. "Yeah, guys, that was one heck of a mess. Honestly, Michael, I don't know how you're gonna make things work out, after all that's happened. You should've just stayed home, considering you didn't care enough about Gabriel to come back earlier. I mean, twenty years – it's a long time, and such a term to have spent among these pathetic creatures, humans, to have been disconnected from Grace, incapable of _touch_… That could make a person really angry. Of course, you could try to say that Daddy didn't allow you to come here any sooner, but on the other hand that particular circumstance didn't stop you when it was about mankind's fate. Interesting choice of priorities."

"A lot of us lost those dearest to us as a result of your mutiny, remember? Michael and I were lucky to have each other still. Twenty years is nothing compared to all of eternity spent in loneliness, don't you agree, brother?" There was a hint of sarcasm in El's voice. "And as for your attempt to make us quarrel, that's _really_ pathetic."

"Ouch, I'm hurt!" It was clear that he really was, in spite his mocking tone. "But if I were you, lover, I'd be thinking instead how you're gonna look in Michael's eyes after that little escapade of yours back then; something tells me that kicking his ass that hard wasn't exactly the kind of touch he wanted and expected from you. And I'm also quite intrigued about your relationship with the boy, our new little messiah, and I bet I'm not the only one."

"Don't you see," Michael said harshly, for Lucifer's words affected him unexpectedly strongly, "He won't tell us anything useful, he's just wasting our time and we don't have much of it. In fact, we're out of time, and we should solve this problem right now. You want me to do it?"

"Uh-oh… looks like I touched a weak spot and poor Jeep is going to pay for it. So, what will it be, Gab?" The Fallen looked at El intently. "Have you got enough guts to do this on your own, or will it be Michael's job to do the dirty work for you yet again?"

El shrugged and was going to answer, but Michael cut in and it was absolutely clear from his tone that he was really pissed off. "I'm so tired of your presence, _brother_, that it's not as if it would be any problem to send you back to Hell. And I would call that not dirty work but rather God's work. I swear to Grace that you earned all that happened to you, and you learned nothing from it, and for that I'm sorry."

"No you're not! Don't tell me that this wasn't exactly what you dreamed of, that you could have…"

"That's enough!" There was such power in El's voice that it made Lucifer break off. Even Michael gave her a look of surprise, for he had never known Gabriel could speak that way – _especially being like that, human_ – and then she added in a low but confident tone, "I'll do it. Jeep is my responsibility."

The click of the safety catch was very loud in the silence of the desert night.

"So, how are you gonna do it, lover?" It didn't seem to bother the Fallen at all. But then again, why it would it, since Jeep's body was just a vessel to him? "Why don't you give me a kiss-kiss before the bang-bang?"

"Yeah," she said. "Actually I was intending to do something very like that."

xxx

Cain was sitting in the front passenger seat of the SUV looking out of the window, with Charlie sitting behind him. It was funny that even in El's absence (she was outside, in fact, and really busy as far he could see), none of them had taken the driver's seat, for she couldn't stand anyone but her to take that place in her favorite car. Or maybe it was just a coincidence. – _How many times do I have to tell you, Cain, there is no such thing as coincidence; everything happens for a reason. Try to remember that. _–_ Yes, El._ – He shook his head. Damn, he could actually hear her words in his mind. On the other hand, that was better than just sitting here waiting for her to try to save his stepfather and not being able to help. Charlie's hand was laid on the back of his seat; he covered it with his palm, stroking gently in an attempt to comfort her. She had stopped sobbing and was staring intently through the glass at the three of them, unable to hear their conversation.

In truth, Cain wasn't sure he actually wanted to hear it. From what he had picked up already, he had realized they used to be in some kind of divine _ménage à trios_, though he couldn't imagine what exactly that was supposed to mean for archangels; as far as he understood they all were brothers, kin, but those three obviously used to be more than that. One thing he knew for sure: interfering in a family fight wouldn't be the wisest thing to do – _Especially with such a family._ – In fact, even that could have been fun, and in a different situation he could have made the most of it for teasing El - _or maybe not, considering she had such a damn firm hand_ – if it hadn't been _**him**_, who had so many names, the _**Fallen**_, and if it hadn't been his father's body that he had taken.

"Oh my God," Charlie said suddenly, with a voice full of terror.

"What?" Cain replied immediately, pushing his thoughts aside and concentrating on the scene outside. "I don't see anything. They're still just talking. And since we can't hear them, mom, why…"

"I don't need to hear them," she whispered. "I saw his face."

"Whose face, mom, Jeep's? I mean, I barely can see him, and…"

"No, not his." It sounded like her throat was constricted and she could barely speak. "Not that _thing_… I mean Michael's. That creature did or said something that pissed him off like hell."

"Michael only looks slightly annoyed to me, but then again, he was shot, mom. Even if he wasn't seriously injured it must still be painful, but instead of getting treatment he's forced into unpleasant debate, so I'm completely with him on this one. He's got the right to be annoyed, so even if it's true, you have nothing to worry about with him. He is on our side, he is good, he saved your life and mine, you told me so, remember? He wouldn't do anything bad to dad."

"The truth, I'm afraid, is never that simple when it comes to archangels; they're different, Cain, they're so fucking different. They have they own priorities and reasons so far beyond our understanding. Yes, Michael saved my life, but only because I was going to give birth to you. He didn't actually care whether any of the people I was with survived Apocalypse or not. No-one survived, Cain. And maybe I only spent forty-eight hours or so by his side, but I can tell you that he is not annoyed, he is fucking pissed!"

"Fine, you saw a pissed off ex-archangel. I saw another one a couple of times and believe me, that was something. He still wouldn't do anything to harm Jeep; El wouldn't allow him."

"You can't possibly know that."

"I know, mom, okay? I know her. So do you. For God's sake, twenty years should be enough to convince you. Did she ever do anything wrong to us? No. So I'm fucking sure that I know her," Cain said dryly, irritated that his mother questioned El.

Charlie sighed, and when she spoke again her voice was fearful. "Well, maybe you know _her, _but you know nothing about _him_, and since it turns out they are the same person, I'll tell you, Cain, that you have no idea what _Gabriel_ is capable of."


	12. Exile

**12. Exile**

_They stood facing each other: the tall powerful figure holding a large mace, his huge white wings stretched out above his back, and the other slender and shorter though almost as powerful, holding a sword in his hand, his black wings folded. They were brothers, His elder children, first and second-born sons; once best friends and even more than that, and now become enemies. They both looked battered, covered with innumerable cuts, but neither of them would surrender, for all the future depended on that fight. _

"It doesn't have to be this way," Michael said, staring intently at his brother's face, so incredibly beautiful, so cold and strange now. "Please, stop while you still can, Lucifer. He's merciful, He loves you and He'll forgive you, you and all those who have followed you."

"You still don't get it, do you, Michael?" Lucifer's voice was as cold and strange as his face. "I don't need His forgiveness, because He betrayed our kind for them. In fact, I don't need Him anymore."

"How could you say that, when He is our Father and the only reason for our very existence?"

"Well, I guess I've grown up enough, and you should've done the same, brother. You should've been on my side instead of fighting me. Don't you have any pride at all?"

"Damn that pride of yours! Look what it has done!" Michael gestured with his sword-hand.

Around them, for as far as they could see, a brutal massacre was unfolding. Countless white and black-winged angels were fighting, and the usual peace and harmony of The Grace was violated by the clash of weapons and other horrible sounds of bloody battle - screams of pain and anger, moans of the dying; their brothers were destroying each other. Although the two armies were about equal in numbers, the white-winged fighters were stronger, for they had no doubts, no regrets about killing their brothers, and they had Lucifer by their side, who had been the Keeper of the power of the Host. So those who were loyal to God were losing the battle. Michael saw how they were being felled one by one, and he felt his heart would scream from pain.

"I gave each of them the choice, and that is much more than He ever gave us," Lucifer replied with just a slight trace of sorrow in his tone. "By defying me, they chose their own fate with a free will. So did you, Michael, and I'm sorry for that. I'll tell Gabriel you fought well, after it's all over."

"What have you done to him? He wouldn't follow you, that I know for sure." Michael's voice was trembling out of agitation for his youngest brother.

"I can assure you that he is perfectly safe, and I promise you I'll take good care of him after you're gone." He sounded so confident, as if it were already over.

Michael shook his head. Was Lucifer really so blind? How could he possibly think that Gabriel would embrace him after what he had done? The youngest archangel was always full of mercy, kindness, forgiveness and love, but he was completely loyal to their Father, his faith in Him as absolute as his love for Him. Michael didn't think even _this _new Lucifer could do any harm to Gabriel, but he realized only too well that these latest events could have destroyed him, for he simply could not have borne to see his beloved brothers stand against – _slaughter_ – each other. He was unsure what to do, since Lucifer apparently hadn't realized – _didn't want to realize_ – that fact. So he did the only thing he could - he made one last attempt to reason with him.

"If no other reason will persuade you to stop, do it for Gabriel, Luc." The use of his brother's pet name was deliberate. "He couldn't stand this. He'll never forgive you, and it'll destroy him."

"You always underestimated me so much, Michael, as you underestimated the bond we share. Once you and He are gone, Gabriel will have no choice but to be with me."

"So this is what that '_free will_' of yours means, brother?" Michael said harshly. "I get it now; there's only supposed to be one free will – yours."

"So you say." A cold smile twitched Lucifer's lips. He raised his mace. "I assume that's enough talking."

"So be it," his brother answered, raising his sword.

And then they charged at each other.

Suddenly an unbearably bright flash of cold blue-white light covered the battlefield, blinding both sides. Lucifer and Michael were forced to stop and shield their eyes, just as the other fighters did. When the light was gone, they saw a kneeling figure beside them; though it was definitely one of their kind they did not know him, for his face was lowered and his strong, massive, heavy features were completely unknown to both of them.

He stood up slowly, stretching his huge black wings and raising his head; although his face seemed somewhat familiar no-one recognized it, but everyone shivered to see the white fire that burned where his eyes should have been. He cocked his head, looking at the nearest white-winged rebel angel, and then his hand moved so quickly than no-one saw the movement, only the result: the lifeless body falling to the ground with its throat crushed. Then he turned to where Lucifer and Michael stood.

"_Father_." Michael's lips moved silently when he saw the fire in his eyes and felt the power emanating from him, and his face brightened.

"You fool." There was such bitterness in Lucifer's tone that for one slight moment Michael felt sorry for him in spite of all that had happened. "So glad that Daddy has come that you didn't even bother to take a proper look at his avatar?" And then he added in a flat voice, "Why, Gabriel?"

"Free will," the warrior answered, perfectly devoid of emotion. Then he looked at Michael and added confidently, "The key to the power of the Host is now yours. So, do your job, the sole general of His Army, and I'll do mine."

Those words seemed to break everybody's numbness. The battle resumed, but they could feel immediately that everything had changed; the rebels were cut out of the Host's power and were now supported only by Lucifer's own strength, while those who had stayed loyal to God felt their connection reestablished. The rebels were starting to lose. As for Gabriel – _or what Gabriel had become_ – he was fighting in the very center of the battle; his ritual dagger and his wings that had become a deadly weapon were enough to strike the rebels down one by one. No-one could have said now that he wasn't born to fight.

Michael and Lucifer were still fighting each other but now as equals, so it was not divine strength but martial art that would decide the outcome of their battle. Lucifer fought desperately, his rage seeming to give him double strength but also making him reckless, so that he failed to parry one of Michael's attacks and was wounded so badly that he dropped his mace and fell to the ground.

Michael kicked the mace aside, his foot planted heavily on Lucifer's chest and his sword pointing at his brother's throat. With Lucifer's failure, the battle was over, the rebels defeated.

The heavy black figure approached Michael; the fire that had filled his eyes was gone and now Michael could see they were Gabriel's eyes, screaming with pain and agony in a strangely cold and blank face, and Michael hesitated over what to do next.

Gabriel picked up Lucifer's mace and said flatly, "Do it."

"Gab," said Lucifer in a voice full of disbelief and despair. "What have you done to yourself…?"

"Do it!" Gabriel repeated harshly. "Or I swear by His name, I'll do it."

And _that_ Michael could not allow to happen, not at any price, for he understood that that would destroy what was left of his younger brother. He looked at Lucifer; his face was dark and cold, and the words he spoke were harsh and heavy as well.

"You belong here no more."

And then he appealed to The Host for all its power, and Lucifer and those who had followed him were cast out and thrown far from Grace forever.

xxx

_They stared at each other: hazel yet strangely cold eyes versus black fathomless holes like portals to someplace else, a place where no sane person could want to be, with red flickers evocative of ever-burning Hellfire. _

She could remember them being completely different. There was a time when they had been so perfectly dark blue and so beautiful that, as she recalled, just looking into them had been bliss. So long had elapsed since she'd seen them for the very last time, so many things had happened, and yet it felt as if it had all been only yesterday, the day when she had lost him - her beloved brother, one of her soul-mates.

That day had destroyed a naïve young archangel, too, or rather he had destroyed himself – had used all the creative power he'd had to transform himself into a completely different person, one that might stand and fight against rebel angels, one that might be His vessel for long enough to break Lucifer's blockade and give the power of The Host to Michael, to the one who could make the right decision when it came to the end – _Do it._ – and survive that without being broken by heartache. Gabriel gave up his creator's gift in exchange for strength, and relinquished almost all of his capacity for emotion in order to strengthen his mental stability, unsure that he could stand it otherwise. He became cold, harsh and callous about everything except his family, although strictly fair, steadfast and mindful of duty. Just one thing had remained unalterable: his love for Michael, though even that wasn't what it once was; there was something of bitterness and despair in it now, which both felt but never discussed, as they never made even casual mention of Lucifer's name. And now here he was, bringing it all up.

Strictly speaking, these weren't _her _painful memories, but Gabriel's, and although they _were_ actually the same person there was something different in how it felt,for twenty years spent amongst humans had changed the ex-archangel a great deal, in quite unexpected ways.

In some respects, El was harder, tougher and definitely smarter than her _alter ego,_ used to dealing with things Gabriel would hardly have heard of, starting from the very beginning with the 'why the fuck am I female' situation twenty years ago. Yet she was not unkind, though she could be – _and very often was_ – inexorable. So now, while Gabriel's heart was agonizing over old wounds reopened, El's mind told it to shut the fuck up and not blow things this time, when the people she was used to calling 'family' were counting on her. Hell, Cain was counting on her. – _I love you. – I know._ – The tears for her beloved lost brother she could spill later (or probably scarcely even then, as it would be pointless), but right now she had a job to do.

What was on her mind would be painful, dangerous and unpredictable, and stood little chance of success. Gabriel would never do it. El decided to give it a chance.

xxx

When Charlie saw El raise her gun-hand, she sprinted from the car in spite of Cain's warning cry, but then she went numb. In the whole of this bizarre night, what she could now see was the craziest thing she could ever imagine: El was bending down over her husband's body and crushing her lips onto his, and he was responding eagerly.

"What the fuck?"

The woman's tone was full of anger. Sure, she was scared for her husband's life, and it was not as if she would have preferred to see him shot by her son's protector instead of kissed. She remembered, too, that it wasn't actually Jeep but someone else in Jeep's body, and yet to see them like that was unbearable, so she stepped forward unthinkingly to make it stop.

"Don't," she heard Michael say, in a flat but very confident voice. Charlie glanced at him and realized that he clearly didn't like what was happening any more than she did, but he obviously understood it better. Then he added, "Stay where you are. Wait." His gun-hand twitched slightly as he gave her the warning.

She felt her son's arm wrap around her waist and hold her gently but tightly. Charlie hadn't even noticed him leave the SUV. She looked at his face and shivered for how like Michael's it was at that moment.

"What's happening?" Cain asked sharply.

"Gabriel is fighting for your stepfather's life," Michael replied dryly.

What had started as a passionate kiss had now become something different; the man's body started to shake and he was clearly trying to struggle and break away, but El wouldn't let him; she held him still with a strength unexpected in one so slender, not letting him break lip-contact for even the slightest moment. Finally he gave a loud groan and his eyes rolled up. Only then did she let go of him and take a deep quick breath, still watching him carefully even though he appeared unconscious. Then she gently touched his neck with her fingertips, checking his pulse rate, and raised his eyelids slightly to find normal human eyes, Jeep's eyes. She gave a sigh of relief.

"Clear. He's gone. Jeep's fine," she said with absolute calm as she holstered her gun. Then, after a moment's thought, looking at the inert figure, she added, "Well, he will be fine, in time." Half-rising, she turned Jeep onto his side and removed the handcuffs. Then she stood up and stepped away from him, making room for Charlie, who immediately started bustling around her husband, and added, "Cain, I obviously need a First Aid Kit for Michael, so why the fuck do I still not have it?"


	13. Timeout

**13. ****Time-out**

Cain had brought El not only the First Aid kit but a bottle of water as well, and she gave him a small smile of gratitude which he found utterly unprecedented and thus disturbing. Taking all the medical supplies from him, she motioned her head towards Charlie, who was kneeling beside Jeep's still-unconscious body. "Now go and make yourself useful," she said.

That was completely normal, ordinary, and thus reassuring. Cain gave her a sharp look, slightly worried by how pale she was, but then again that could be due to the light from the headlamps, and since she nodded in confirmation it wasn't as if he had a lot of options; when she said 'jump' you only asked 'how high', although she had never abused her position and his trust in her. And besides, he realized, those two would probably like to have some privacy for a bit. He went over to Charlie, squatting down beside her and comforting her.

"So, how's LA?" El asked, cleaning blood carefully from Michael's forearm with a wet cloth.

"Dead," Michael said calmly.

She smirked, and then cocked her head to the left, looking at the cleansed wound. "I can't believe it; twenty years living through the Apocalypse and Jeep is still a lousy shot. It's definitely only a scratch; you lost a little blood and flesh, but give it a couple of days and you'll be as good as new."

"So I said," Michael replied. Then, after a moment's silence, he added, "Are you disappointed?"

"Well, that depends." A hint of a smile twitched her lips. "For Jeep being such a bad shot? Yes. For you not being badly wounded? No."

In spite of her optimistic words, she took care of the 'scratch' properly, although the bullet, while scoring his skin, had not caused a great deal more damage than a deep knife-cut. Okay, a knife-cut wouldn't have taken a sliver of flesh with it, but still, it wasn't nearly as bad as it could've been. On the other hand, that didn't mean it couldn't get infected, so she cleaned it carefully, putting antiseptic and then a bandage on.

"The bliss of The Grace is still strong in you," Michael said matter-of-factly, and then added in a much lower voice, "Your bond with _him _is still strong as well. That was an unnecessary risk, Gabriel."

"That _'unnecessary risk'_ saved Cain's father's life. Besides, I succeeded, so there isn't really much to discuss."

"Cain's stepfather," he corrected her punctiliously. "He's replaceable. You're not."

"I'd love to see how you were gonna tell the boy that his family could be replaced, Michael."

Something in her voice made him surprised and wary. It looked like she had Cain firmly and confidently under her control, so why would she care how he _felt, _as long she could be sure that he would do whatever needed to be done? As far as Michael was aware, that would be the very first thing Gabriel would teach anyone who stayed with him long enough. – _The order was given._ – This wasn't the time to argue about it, though, so he decided instead to elaborate on his point.

"The boy needs you to keep him safe much more than he needs Jeep, and you know how important his life is, how much is at stake with it. So if it came down to a choice between you or Jeep, there wouldn't seem to be any real choice at all."

"Well, we were lucky then, not to have to choose." She shrugged.

"It wouldn't work again."

"I know. I only managed it because _he_ didn't see what was coming; I'm smart enough to understand that much, okay?" The annoyance in her tone made him raise an eyebrow at her, and she deliberately made her voice neutral again. "You want me to take a look at your back?"

"No, it's fine." His tone reflected her own ambiguity.

"What, you found a hospital?"

"I found a needle and a thread and stitched myself. There was no need to look for a hospital. In fact it was a lot easier this time, since I'd already had some practice."

She gave him a slightly surprised look. Had he just made a joke? That would be something completely new, for Michael and a sense of humor… well, you could say they existed in different universes. But then again, if she had changed, why couldn't he have done? Except that she had spent all these years _down here, _which was quite an incentive, while he had been _up there, _where nothing ever changed. – _Almost nothing, almost never._ - His face was straight, though.

"Fine," she said, packing the medical supplies, "I'll take your word on that."

xxx

No-one could have told it from Michael's blank face, but he was very glad to see his little brother again. It didn't matter that Gabriel looked so different (he felt a certain difficulty in calling him _brother_ even in his mind, although _sister_ wasn't looking as a good option either; as archangels they appeared male according to human concepts but without being gendered, and all this situation was entirely new for him), nor that he acted so differently (being calm and cold-blooded was completely normal for Gabriel, but not the nonchalance he had shown in the face of Lucifer's goading, nor the fact that he had actually hit back with a weapon that had never been his but always Lucifer's: words), it still made Michael happy, even though the cause of their reunion had been far from good. To feel Gabriel so close again, and this time on his side, was wonderful.

It wasn't how he had imagined it, though; he had expected Gabriel to show guilt, anger, uneasiness, affront maybe – _joy, he hoped_ – but not this, not him acting as if nothing significant had happened and they had only been apart since yesterday for some routine reason. – _As if he hadn't got Michael killed._ – It confused him, and all the words he had prepared for his brother now seemed completely wrong, redundant.

He wasn't ready, either, for Gabriel being so sardonic, for his brother had never shown any trace of humor, especially since Lucifer had been cast out. On the better days he had been calm and unemotional, but sometimes he had seemed harsh, cruel even, in his complete obedience to their Father. The way he spoke with Michael now was confusing – discussing things that mattered as if it was all unimportant, and yet not. All this was very… unlikely, according to the old way of things.

But none of that mattered when he saw him… well, _her_, biting her lower lip in that well-known way, so that it took all his self-control not to put his arms around that slender body, not to say how much he missed that. He almost did so, but at that moment the girl raised her hand, touched his forearm gently, and said, "I'm sorry."

"What?" He blinked, surprised as much by her words as by how cold her touch felt on his skin. What amazed him the most, though, was that he simultaneously felt his skin burning where her cold fingers lay, a strange and completely unfamiliar sensation.

"I should've taken that bullet, not you." Her voice was so serious, and that reminded him again how she was and at the same time wasn't the Gabriel he used to know.

"Not your fault," he said in a soft tone that would have confused Charlie or Jeep if they had heard him. It certainly wasn't the voice of the person they had met twenty years ago, who had seemed so cold and completely incapable of such gentleness.

She stroked his arm lightly, once, but then abruptly pulled her hand away –_ he felt its loss_ – and raised her head, giving him that well-known stern look of Gabriel's. "My responsibility," she said flatly, and added in that new, confusing tone, "I'm gonna check out how's the party going." Then she turned her back on him and started towards the other members of their group.

"Gabriel." He spoke to her back more coldly than he had actually intended, because it seemed so easy for her to break their touch and leave him but it felt so wrong – _hollow_ – for him when she did so. When she looked back, he added, "Time is running out. Get them focused. We have plenty of things to discuss."

"Yes, my general," she replied, and went off, leaving him confused as to whether she had been serious or not.

xxx

As El approached the others, she could hear Charlie exclaiming happily as Jeep recovered consciousness. When she reached them, Jeep gave her a look of embarrassment that very quickly turned to a mixture of fear and anger.

"Don't worry, I'm not gonna hurt you," she said calmly, stepping back to reassure him.

"Yeah, right, just like you weren't gonna hurt my father," he replied harshly. "I always knew there was something wrong about you, I just didn't know exactly how much."

"Jeep," Charlie took his hand and stroked it gently, trying to comfort him, "Sweetie, don't. You owe her… _him_," she stopped short, obviously confused, and then shook her head. "Whatever. El saved your life, even though you'd attacked her and shot Michael."

"I'm sorry for Michael getting hurt, I wish he hadn't, but this… _person_ is the one who killed my father!"

"I don't kill, I already told you that." El shrugged. "Besides, it was your father, actually, who tried to get me killed, or blown up, if I'm being specific."

"To stop you from killing us!" Jeep snapped.

"That wasn't my plan either; I had no orders about you, just about the child."

"Oh, that makes you a much better person indeed."

"I was mistaken, but Cain didn't get hurt, and neither did any of you."

"Tell that to Audrey."

"Well, I could do, if I ever meet her." She shrugged again.

"She's gone, dead because of you, you cold-blooded bitch!"

"To that last bit, guilty as charged." El gave him a sardonic smile. "But not the first. That girl didn't die in the car crash or because of the injuries she sustained, that's for sure."

"El," Charlie said in a low and very careful voice, "She did. When we got out of the car she wasn't moving."

"Yeah, a crash could do that to a human, I figured that out." El's voice was completely confident, but when she spoke again there was a good deal of sarcasm in it as well. "But if you'd bothered to check out the girl, you would've realized she was just unconscious. There weren't even any fractures, just a couple of bruises and scratches."

"How on earth could you know that?"

"Because I did check it out."

Charlie and Jeep exchanged very surprised glances.

"You did?" Jeep's voice was full of disbelief. "Why would you do that?"

"Someone should have, there was nobody else around, and you left her."

"Why would you care whether she was alive or dead?"

"She was a fighter, I always respected that. And since my mission had had nothing to do with her extermination… why not?"

"That's so sane, so reasonable: to bring about an Apocalypse in which everyone would die, but still care about one girl."

"I didn't start the Apocalypse, you did."

"What?!" they exclaimed together.

"By 'you' I don't mean you two specifically, although I guess it could be you as well in some ways. I mean humanity."

"Uh-huh, and suddenly you're such an angel," Jeep mumbled.

She barked out a short laugh. "That's right, or more correctly, I _was_ an angel."

"What about your brother, then?" His voice was still angry but there was something new in his tone, something that suggested thoughtfulness. "Did he think that everything you did back then was for the best, too?"

"I think Michael is fully capable of speaking for himself, so why don't you ask him?" she replied calmly.

"Dad." Cain's voice was full of caution. "That's not really any of our business."

"Jeep, stop being such an ass," his mother supported Cain. "I just don't care about that shit. Whatever happened, happened. El helped raise my son, she protected him and us, and she just saved your life, so get over it."

"Fine," Jeep grumbled. "But I must say I much prefer the Biblical version of angels."

"Well, that's fine," El replied. "Because I think Adam was less annoying that you, and much cuter, that's for sure. So, since we've settled our difficulties, which I hope we have, we should listen to what Michael's got to tell us. And you know what? I think it has nothing to do with a Christmas party."

xxx

_He stands near the archway, looking through it into the darkness. Shadows that seem to have their own strange, unnatural life are__ wrapped around him, covering him like a cloak; a very strange sight, considering the huge, snow-white wings folded behind his back and the long tunic of the same almost-glowing white. Light covered with darkness, that's what he is now, sovereign of Hell, the Fallen, Lucifer. _

He reaches out his hand but stops short of actually touching the fire in the archway, its heat and burning insurmountable as yet. But soon it would no longer be; such were the rules of The Game.

He comes here often, when he needs to think, to remember, to be alone. The irony is that he is always alone now, no matter how many minions he has, ever since the day when he was thrown from Grace by his own brother. – _Brothers, for Michael could never have done that without Gabriel's help, without his sacrifice._ – He comes here to remember how fucking much he hates them, because he has never forgotten how much he loves and needs them. The unsatisfied urge for their love sometimes draws him close to madness, and only hatred and vengeance keep him sane.

Has he ever regretted what he's done? Well, there's the question, and sometimes he doesn't know the right answer. He wishes he'd won that battle, he wishes he hadn't started it, he wishes _the two of_ _them_ dead, he wishes the _three of_ _them_ were together, he wishes to prove to his Father that He was wrong, and he wishes not to prove anything, just be by His side again. He considers those thoughts weaknesses, and pushes them away. He should be focused: the time is coming.

"I'll show You how wrong You were," he says silently. There is no reply, but he knows that his Father heard him, He just didn't answer. He has never answered, not since that day.

He touches his lips with the tips of his fingers and feels their chill; his hands are as cold as ice – _Hell's ice_ – and so were his lips, but not now, not after the kiss that Gabriel gave him. Even though it had only been via a vessel, he had felt it, and now his lips are a little warmer and it feels so good, even worth the disruption to his plan. Never mind, he'll get to the boy eventually, one way or another. He's really good at this kind of stuff, the best, in fact.

He closes his eyes, remembering that feeling – her body pressing his – _the vessel's_ – to the ground, that complicated uncertainty as to whether he would prefer to snap her neck for daring to get in his way, or… to do something else. Until that moment he had never thought he could find a human body desirable. Perhaps it was because of _who_ was in that particular body.

A very cold smile twitches his lips as he thinks about the confusion that that pathetic creature he used as a vessel had felt because of its arousal – for when Gabriel caught him unawares and used the power of The Grace to exile him, it was _very much_ arousal he had felt. It was funny how uneasy people always were about that sort of thing.

The downside, however, is that the feeling is still in him, unsatisfied, unleashed; fire inside the ice, and it's fucking unbearable. He'll make Gabriel pay for this, he thinks, clenching his fists, his nails tearing into his palms and drawing blood. That always helps to restore control, not the pain but his blood, the blood first spilled by Michael.

"What?" In spite of his tone of annoyance, he's glad of the distraction.

It isn't necessary to turn around to discover who it is; all his minions are connected to him, they are _his_ Host. They've lost their collars, their halos, but instead they all wear heavy bracelets on their wrists. He finds that funny, that manacles have replaced collars, but they are still slaves as they always were; at first Daddy's, and now his. Willing slaves, isn't that amazing? Born to serve, and nothing else. Sometimes he thinks their Dad is much crueler than he himself could ever be.

"Everything's ready, My Lord," the voice behind him says. "All your legions wait for your command."

"The Hell-hounds?" he asks, though there's no real need to.

"Waiting to be unleashed as well."

"Good," he answers. "Soon, Belial."

"Is there anything else I can do for you, Master?"

There's so much undisguised hope in that voice that it makes him smile arrogantly. He's about to say 'No', but something crosses his mind and he turns back, and his black eyes with their red flickers stare at the kneeling figure. It's not what he wants, but… it will do, for now.

The humans' Book says that after they were cast out, they changed; once the most beautiful creatures, they became ugly and frightening. Well, it's a lie, just like the tale of people going to Hell or Heaven after death. As his beloved brother once said, '_The truth is never that simple'_. There is no afterlife for mortals, though their souls do indeed increase the powers of The Grace or Hell. And no, they haven't changed outside, they are still beautiful. On the inside… well, that's a different story. The fact is that while perhaps they no longer have something they used to – _the touch_ – there is something else they can do instead.

He reaches towards his minion, his hand outstretched. Belial takes it and kisses it fiercely.

"Yes," Lucifer says, looking at him. "Actually, you can."


	14. Small talk

**14. ****Small talk**

_He was sitting on the porch looking up at the night sky, where flickers of light from distant stars were dispelling the darkness. There were so many of them, forming patterns in countless variety, the patterns that humans called constellations. They were so far from here, and some of them were so close to his home, The Grace. _

The chilly night air sent shivers down his body; apparently t-shirt and sweatpants weren't the best clothes for sitting outdoors like this on the night of December 28th, but he was obviously still having a few difficulties with the simple stuff (like picking the right outfit), just because of his lack of experience. Never before had he felt like this: the coldness, the heat, the hunger, the tiredness… and so many things along the same lines, _human _things. He wouldn't have minded not feeling it still, but that wasn't an option for an ex-archangel. If he'd had the choice, his own human body was something he would have preferred not to have been stuck with. Apparently his Father really hadn't been a good mood with him three days ago... or else it might have been His sense of humor, which Gabriel had never been able to share.

_Father… he already missed Him so much. _

Three days, only three fucking days and already it felt like forever. Three days being disconnected from Grace, three days away from everything he loved, and still not even a word from Michael. Did that mean…? No, he wasn't going to think about _that_, not now, when he still felt wounded and guilty at the same time, _so fucking_ _much_.

And he should stop thinking about himself as _'he'_ and get used to being _'she'_,if he didn't want to be exposed one day. For now, bye-bye Gabriel, hello El.

"Fuck." That last bit she said out loud, a neat summary of her inner thought process.

The door behind her back opened, and she heard the baby's whimpers and Charlie's soft, low voice murmuring nothings to him.

"Aren't you two supposed to be asleep now?" El said to the young women as she took a seat beside her on the porch. "Or he is hungry, _again?_"

"No, he isn't, not yet." Charlie laughed at El's expression. "He just doesn't seem to want to sleep, so I decided it would be better to avoid waking Jeep and go out to get some fresh air. But he is a newborn baby, you know. He's supposed to feed every two hours, or so I've heard. Why does that surprise you so much?"

"Well, how would I know that?" El shrugged. "It's not like I've ever dealt with children before."

"I remember Michael being aware enough about the subject."

"I'm not him," El replied dryly. "I've never been fond of your kind as he is."

"And yet you're here."

"Uh-huh."

"And he's not. It doesn't seem very reasonable to me."

"Well, get over it."

"Why did he leave us? Why didn't he stay?"

"Why should he stay? He'd already done the impossible; your child lives."

"You know… I hadn't even wanted this baby; I was going to give him up for adoption. I told Michael that if the child was so very important he should take him and raise him himself. I'm not some fucking Sarah Connor."

"I don't know what that means."

"Hello, the mother of John Connor, the savior of mankind in the war against the machines? In the Terminator series?"

"I assume that must be some kind of fiction?"

"I assume you don't know what a movie is." Charlie sighed.

"Familiar with the definition, don't care about the details. As I said, your kind was never on my list of top interests."

"You should be interested in this particular case, 'cos sometimes you seem exactly like a character from that story. And it's about the Apocalypse too."

"How exciting," El said skeptically. "So, you were going to give up your baby. What did his father think about that?"

"That's kinda complicated… I mean, you know the father wasn't Jeep, right?"

"No, I didn't know that." El gave her a stern look. "Though I really couldn't imagine him as the father of the messiah. On the other hand, you're not much like Mary yourself, and I don't suppose there was an immaculate conception either. So, who's the daddy?"

"Whoa, wait a minute, you knew her, the mother of Christ?"

"We've met once. Don't ask for details because I won't give you any; it's classified information." And her lips twitched as if she was trying to hide a smile.

Charlie thought that in rare moments like this one she looked so different - so young and so unlike that emotionless creature that she appeared to be most of the time – as if there was someone else hidden under that extreme coldness.

"Well, I know how it must sound, but… I don't really know who the father is."

El raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, that does sound… interesting. I'm eager to hear the whole story."

"I'm afraid it'll disappoint you. There's no supernatural shit in it: no signs, no crack of doom, nothing like that." Charlie sighed and looked at the baby in her arms; although he wasn't sleeping, he had been very calm and quiet, just making a low bubbling from time to time.

El followed her gaze; Charlie's son looked… well, like any baby looked. Even though parents usually started looking for family likenesses from the very beginning and so often managed to find them somehow, the truth was that all babies looked much alike at that age. They all even had those identical sky-blue eyes, regardless of the color they'd become later. Charlie's son was no exception; his eyes were bright blue, and El supposed that it was down to the starlight that at some moments they seemed to glow.

"Try me," she shrugged. "Besides, no matter how ordinary the story is, your son is anything but ordinary."

"Unlike his mom," Charlie smiled. "Okay, but remember – you asked for it. So, eight months ago or so… holy crap, can you believe it?" She interrupted herself. "Only eight months ago I had nothing to do with this craziness. Why couldn't it have been some other girl?"

"You wouldn't be the first person to ask that exact same question," El pointed out. "Don't get distracted. The story, remember?"

"Fine. So, I'd been working and it was already pretty late when this guy showed up in Paradise Falls. I took his order and he said something nice to me. Then one word, another word, well, you know how it can go, right?" Charlie gave El a glance. "Or maybe you don't."

"I'm familiar with human behavior." El lips twitched in a hint of a smile. "Continue, please."

"So, I liked the guy; not only because he was handsome and pretty cool - and believe me, he was - but he was also completely different from what I was used to; he talked different, he looked at me different, not like he was gonna reach in to my pants and all. Oh… I didn't mean to say that last bit. This is really awkward, talking to you about these things."

"Why?" There was sincere incomprehension in El's voice.

"Because… you're an angel, and I'm talking to you about sex. Are you guys even supposed to know what it is?"

"This is fucking hilarious!" El bit her lower lip, trying hard to keep a straight face. "Firstly, I'm an ex-archangel, if that somehow matters, and secondly, do you really think that after all the eons of our existence there's anything left we don't know about your kind? So, I get it, he didn't act like he was going to sleep with you but in the end that was exactly what happened, right?"

"No! Well, yes, but… you've somehow managed to make it sound completely wrong. Anyway, we spend that night together in my trailer and when I woke up in the morning he was already gone. One month later I discovered that I was pregnant. End of story."

"So, what was his name?"

"Um… I don't actually remember." Charlie blinked. "It's kinda strange, because I'm sure he told me it. I would never make out with someone without even knowing his name, and don't look at me like that!"

"Okay, I guess it was something ordinary and it just slipped your mind." El shrugged. "What did he look like, apart from handsome and cool?"

"Why?" The young woman frowned.

"Just curiosity. I mean, hello, the father of the new messiah?" El cocked her head at Charlie.

"Look, a lot of things have happened since then, a lot of time's gone by. Besides, it was the end of my shift, I was fucking tired, I had other customers to serve, so it's not like I had much chance to stare at him. And it was pretty dark in the trailer, if it comes down to that. What's the big deal? It was just some nice guy; we had great sex, which no-one expected to end up in a pregnancy."

"So, you don't remember that either." El's voice was completely neutral. "No name, no face, just some good memories."

"Exactly, and I prefer to keep it that way rather than regret what I can't have any more. Jeep is now the baby's father, period," Charlie said confidently.

"I'd assume that's wise." El looked into the sky. "Have you ever noticed how beautiful they are, the stars? I didn't."

"What?" Charlie gave her a confused look.

"Never mind. So have you decided yet what name you wanna give your son?"

"Is there any specific name that I _should_ give him?"

"Not that I'm aware of. Why?"

"Well, I've been thinking… he was born on December 24th and he appeared to be the savior of mankind…"

"Please don't tell me you think you _have _to name him Jesus!"

"Actually I've been thinking about 'John', but that doesn't go with his last name."

El laughed, the very first time Charlie had heard her really laugh, so sincere and infectious that she couldn't help but join in. And of course the baby decided immediately that it couldn't be any fun without him and started to cry.

"Here he goes again." Charlie sighed and then glanced at El. "Could you hold him for a couple of minutes? I literally can't feel my arms already."

"What?" El's face was almost terrified. – _"Give me the child." _–_ "No!"_

"Oh, come on… What, is the big tough ex-archangel scared of the baby? He won't bite you, you know." Charlie smiled at El's shocked expression. "There." And she put the noisy bundle into the girl's arms. "Just be careful and gentle, that's all."

El gave her a very, very strange look but said nothing, taking the baby in her arms awkwardly but carefully.

To Charlie's great astonishment her son stopped crying immediately, and started to move his arms like he was trying to touch El. She was looking at him so attentively, as if she saw something that Charlie couldn't, and once again her face had that blank, unreadable look. Then she touched the baby's arm with the tip of her finger and the child immediately tried to grab it.

"Huh, he seems to like you," Charlie said with a smile. "Men, they're all the same. He's only three days old and already making a move on a pretty girl."

"So… hi," El said to the child in a very soft voice, but not the one people usually used with babies; she talked as if he was… equal. "Whatever your name is."

"Cain," Charlie said. El raised an eyebrow at her and she added, "That's his name."

"May I ask _why_?" There was something in her tone that reminded Charlie once again of Michael, like so many times before; it was amazing how alike and at the same time unalike those two were.

"No specific reason. I just like it," she replied with a shrug.

Actually, there was a specific reason. As she and El had been chatting she had remembered: that night when her baby was conceived, after she and the man had had sex and she had been almost asleep, he had said something about Cain's sacrifice, very low, and then he had kissed her forehead, and after that she remembered nothing. It had just come back to her now, and she was not going to relate it to El; there were some things people should just keep to themselves.

_Cain_… she liked how that sounded. But then she caught the stern, almost unnerving look that the girl was giving her, and added just to distract her, "Oh, and just so you know, Michael said that the baby was never meant to be born, whatever that means."

"He said that?" El's fingertips were playing with Cain's tiny palms.

"Word for word," Charlie confirmed. Then she stood up and took the baby from El, and he immediately started to whimper. "I'm gonna feed him now and then I really hope we'll sleep. I'm so tired. Are you coming?"

"Soon, but not right now. Goodnight, Charlie. Sleep well, Cain."

"Night, El," the woman said and went into the house.

El's hand reached into her pants pocket and pulled out the lighter and cigarette pack she had taken away from Charlie on the very first day. – _You won't smoke while you're feeding the baby, am I clear?_ – The lighter looked very worn, with a single word written on its side: '_Hope'_.

She lit up and inhaled, looking at the night sky. Then she said, "How very fucking interesting."


	15. Calculations

**1****5. Calculations.**

"Are you okay?" Cain's hand gently touched her forearm.

She inhaled before answering. "Sure, why?"

He gave her a mistrustful look: as far as he could see she wasn't okay, nowhere near; she was pale (and he was sure now that the headlamps' light had nothing to do with it), her fingers had been trembling slightly as she lit the cigarette, and he could definitely see dark shadows round her eyes.

"You don't look so well," he said carefully, well aware that she had never appreciated so-called 'sensitive moments'.

"I'm fine," she replied, sounding slightly annoyed, but then added in a softer voice, "I'm just cold."

That wasn't reassuring either, because she never complained about that kind of stuff - not that she ever complained about any kind of stuff at all. She hated the heat, though, which he knew and understood perfectly well; she always wore long sleeves and high collars when they were around strangers because she had to cover her prominent tattoos even when it was unbearably hot, and having a thing for cleanliness and neatness of appearance could easily turn one against the heat. He had picked those habits up from her, along with many other things – he didn't appreciate the heat, and tried to look decent no matter the circumstances.

But she had never complained about the cold. It wasn't even that cold tonight, and her clothes fitted her well enough. _Although_, he thought, _no cold could make her shake like that, like she was freezing from within._ He said nothing about it out loud, but nodded at the SUV instead. "I have a thermos of coffee in there." She gave him an unreadable look. "What? I made it while we were packing. I didn't know how long the ride would be, so… I figured you might need it."

"Coffee would be nice," she said after a long pause, looking at him with a strange expression. "Very farsighted of you, kiddo."

"I'm not a kid," he frowned. "Don't call me that. I grew up a long time ago, El."

"I know." She nodded in confirmation. "I made you do that. Much more quickly than you would've done naturally."

"You did the right thing, as you always do," he replied, and made his way towards the vehicle.

She watched his back silently.

xXx

_The room would've __been dark if it hadn't been for the moonlight falling through the open window right onto the narrow, unmade bunk-bed. The dim, mysterious light made the woman's pale naked skin glow; her loose hair, shot through with silver, waved, caressing her shoulders and her back as she moved her hips in a steady, almost lazy pace, making the man she was straddling moan impatiently._

"_Faster. Please," he breathed out, his hands travelling all over her body, everywhere he could reach. She moved her left hand which had been lying on his sleek, well-muscled chest, her fingers finding an erect nipple and squeezing it, making him arch towards her and growl. _

"_Hush," she __chuckled softly, starting to increase her pace slightly. "You agreed we'd be doing it my way. Are you going to start complaining now?" _

"_Oh, God, no… yes… more," he gasped and sank his digits into her thighs with a strength that would probably leave bruises later. His eyes rolled up as he gave himself over completely to this delicious torture she was putting him through all over again. It wouldn't be the first time she had drawn him right to the edge and then made it go away, delaying his now oh-so-wanted release. Never in his whole life had he felt anything like this, because never before had he been so little in control while having sex, or making love, or fucking, whatever; he didn't care about the terms at that moment. _

"_I'm taking that as a 'no, no complaints'," she said, as her right hand moved along his side, turned back and finally reached his groin, where her skilled fingers started to stroke him, provoking a long loud groan that quickly turned into a cry of pleasure as he started to come. Even then, she didn't change the pace, but instead moved her hips harshly, fiercely even, so that he came so hard he nearly fainted. _

"_That was fucking amazing," the man said, when he was finally able to speak again, although his voice was still breathless. "Though I'd've liked it better if you'd come as well. I'll make it work for you next time, when we do it my way. I promise."_

_He was hardly more than in his late twenties, despite the aura of self-reliance and authority he obviously possessed. Tall, noticeably so even when he was lying down, and powerfully built with the kind of muscles which years of daily gym would give to a man. His hair was dark and very short in a way reminiscent of the military or law enforcement; his eyes were bright green in daylight but at night looked almost gray. At that particular moment they were locked on his partner. _

"_Who said there'd be a next time?" She stretched lazily, got off him, and picked up her black shirt from the floor, neglecting her underwear. She didn't even bother to button the shirt. "That wasn't the deal."_

"_Oh__, yeah, right. The deal," he muttered, watching her take his cigarette pack from the bedside table and settle on the windowsill. She didn't seem at all disturbed that anyone outside could've seen her sitting there, barely covered by the thigh-length shirt. All she cared about was covering her upper body, those unbelievable tattoos of hers. Strangely enough, that indifference to outside attention did bother him, or rather the thought that someone other than him would see her like that, and the very fact that that bothered him bothered him even more. He didn't want her to know that, though, so he shoved a pillow under his back, making himself comfortable, and added in a carefree voice, "Why would you need me to send this reconnaissance party anyway?"_

"_Because that was the deal." She gave him a stern 'you are not going to be dumb now, are you?' look. "You got what you wanted; I get what I need."_

"_Don't worry, I'm totally ready to fulfill my end of the bargain. A deal is a deal." He folded his hands over his chest. "It's just… I'm really curious. You could have asked for a lot of things for yourself, your family, but this… I never saw this coming. So, what's the point?" _

"_You surprise me, Cortez. Someone in you__r position should know the value of information. Wasn't that the first thing they taught you in the Agency?" She put the pack down, refraining from smoking, to his astonishment, and then returned to the bed and sat facing him, her long legs crossed in front of her._

"_Well, what I have learned was that one should look for useful information," he observed, as his eyes travelled over the exposed curves of her body; he quite enjoyed the view. "And there is nothing useful out there." _

"_Any knowledge is valuable," she pointed out._

"_Right, and to see the proof of that statement you just need to look outside," he replied bitterly._

_She knew that he thought i__t was some experimental virus that had caused the Apocalypse; apparently something from his previous job gave him reason to do so. Knowing better, she didn't argue the point, but explained instead. "That's exactly what I'm asking you to do – to look outside. I need to know what's happening out there, and so do you. I would've done it myself, but I can't. I need to be here."_

"_Oh, what's outside? That I can tell you right now, babe." Now his voice was harsh and almost angry. "I've been there, remember? I don't know what you're looking for, but there is nothing good there. Oh, sure, there are other survivors somewhere out there. Some of them, perhaps, not doing so bad, like in those Free Zones of ours. The others… doing much worse, no, very much worse, living in a fucking post-Apocalyptic version of the Wild West worse. No-one's doing better. We have enough supplies for at least five years. We have electricity and fresh water; we did a good job of making this place as safe and as civilized as possible, but our human resources are limited. Twenty miles away we're already failing to control the situation. So tell me again, why should I risk my men just to confirm the fact that there is nothing out there but chaos?"_

"_Because that was the deal," she __said simply, looking at him with that unreadable expression of hers. "And you're going to carry out your end of the bargain."_

_He sat up straight. His hands reached over to her legs and patted them, placing her feet on the bed as he stroked her ankles. "Is that 'I need to be here' of yours something to do with me?" he asked in a dangerously sweet, husky voice. "Anything?"_

"_Does it matter?" She raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm here now, aren't I? Isn't that what you wanted?" _

_He suddenly jerked her ankles forwards so that the next moment her back hit the bed. He settled down immediately between her legs and started to place kisses on her inner thighs, stopping short only for a moment to mutter "Mm-hm." _

"_What are you doing?" There wasn't even __the slightest hint of alarm in her voice, merely curiosity._

"_Making sure that there will be a next time," he answered in a hot whisper._

_And he did just that. _

xXx

Michael had said "Get them ready, we're out of time", and El, knowing her kin better than anyone, understood that he had meant it, that there were pretty good reasons for doing what she'd been told, despite the fact that she'd been out of the habit of taking anyone's orders for a long time now. In fact, she was the one used to _giving_ the orders. But then again, Michael had always been pretty reasonable and not exactly known for a love for dramatic effects. Everything he said, everything he did, he always has his reasons. Damn solid reasons.

"_How dare you listen to His heart?" _

"_Because He made this one." Michael's hand lay on his own armored chest. _

And she knew that she should've been there, making sure they were ready to listen to him and to… to comply with whatever he said needed to be done, because somehow she was sure that they wouldn't like it.

So why the fuck was she standing here, doing nothing but smoking and waiting for Cain's return, bringing a cup (well, not actually a cup but a camping mug) of lousy instant coffee? Meanwhile Charlie and Jeep were having a rather intense conversation – judging from their body language, anyway, although they had taken care to lower their voices. She smirked; as if that would keep the subject from her, as if she hadn't studied them for so many years that she could've told what it was all about even if she couldn't have read the conversation from their lips! In fact, she could do so perfectly; a rather useful skill, as she had found out.

So Jeep was still grumbling about her newly-announced identity and Charlie was obviously starting to lose her temper; this woman, the mother of the messiah, had the very convenient quality of embracing reality as it was without whining or complaining how unfair it was or how it was not the way it should be.

She hadn't been like that from the very beginning, El knew. She had come a long way from the freaked-out girl she had been when El, no, _Gabriel_, had met her for the very first time. On the other hand, Jeep hadn't changed that much; he was still rather idealistic, and… well, in spite of the fact that he really loved his wife and always treated Cain like his own son, it occurred to El that he hadn't completely comprehended how important the boy was. He knew, but to know and to embrace the knowledge fully weren't the same thing.

That was one of the human qualities El had found very confusing at first; it wasn't enough for them to have some things just _known _in order to actfrom the knowledge. No, they actually seemed to need to adjust to that knowledge, in a way. At first she just saw them as slow, not to mention weak. They also could also do whatever they chose, even if it was wrong and they knew so; something that her kind could not even think of. Even in the First War, both sides had been sure they were doing the right thing. So, dealing with humans was so much harder than her kin.

Well, truth be told, that was how things used to be, but how they'd turned out now was a whole new level of complication, as inter-angelic relationships went.

Lucifer.

Gabriel's lost and long-gone brother; the part of Gabriel's soul from which one of his soul-mates had been abruptly ripped was still empty, hollow, leaving the archangel puzzled and incomplete. He had had eons to control this feeling and yet it still hurt.

El didn't think much about it, didn't have enough time, and, frankly speaking, no desire to go down that route; her mind completely blocked everything that could have affected her performance on the mission. Not to feel but to act. Do what must be done, nothing more; she tried so hard to follow this path. She remembered him, sure, but it had been impersonal,sort of, until now; more like a story she had heard that had happened to someone else. In a way, that's exactly how it had been.

But that had changed. The bond they had once shared had come up to the surface and it scared the hell out of her – its intensity, its power, its _rightness_.

Cold, he had felt so cold, even via a vessel; it was his coldness that made her fingers tremble and her body shake, as if when they kissed he took away a significant part of her own warmth. When their lips had met, she had felt like she was starting to fall somewhere deep and dark, into a place where no light was allowed to exist. There was no room for anything good there either - no peace, no hope. Loneliness and despair ruled that place.

_Anger, rage, __revenge… craving._

And the strangest and most inconvenient thing was that what she had really wanted to do back then was not to exile him back to that horrible place, but to bring him some alleviation, to comfort him… to have him back with her.

_Idiot__._

She had said nothing of it to Michael, of course. How could she, when he always seemed to take what had happened back then much more easily? Though he was clearly sad and distressed at Lucifer's fate, he wasn't, he didn't seem devastated, while Gabriel felt completely crushed. Michael was certainly angry with their oldest brother for the ruination he had caused and for the sufferings he had brought to their entire kind, and seemed willing to forget about Lucifer's very existence.

El sighed. Taking all that into consideration, talking with him about such things probably wouldn't be the best idea, at least for now. She tilted her head, watching the white smoke streaming from the cigarette into the night sky.

Michael.

Gabriel's solid ground; it was he who had given to the empty shell that had remained of the once naïve and innocent young archangel strength to live through the losses, to follow their path undeviatingly. He had tried so hard to ease his youngest brother's pain, to be a substitute for everything that was gone. He had been so very reliable an example, so dependable and trustworthy.

And then he had disobeyed their Father's will just as Lucifer had - ironically, for the same object - and Gabriel's world had broken into pieces again. Maybe that was the main reason why he had been able to make the final blow. He had felt betrayed, again.

El knew that what Gabriel had done to Michael was wrong, not only because he was his kin (they had had plenty of that particular experience, thanks to Lucifer), not only because he was rebirthed by Him (which was the best proof that Gabriel was the one who had made the wrong choice), but because after so many years spent amongst mortals she had learned that everything was not always what it seemed, that the time that humans needed to process, to adjust – sometimes that was the only way to get things straight. She had had the time to realize how blind her alter ego had been back then.

_Arrogant__._

And now, after all these years, Michael was here… and that threw El's feelings into complete disarray; joy at having him back and anger that he hadn't come earlier, hope that they might finally resolve all their issues and misgiving that they might not, the two of them blissfully reunited and the three of them forced to stand against each other again.

_Fucking disaster, I'd call it._

None of this showed on her face as she watched Michael approach her, the bandage on his forearm hidden by an unfastened jacket of dark leather. He stopped in front of her and spoke in a calm voice full of disapproval, eyes peering at her cigarette.

"You shouldn't be doing that."

She quirked her eyebrow and inhaled before replying. "And that's because…?"

"It's beneath you, Gabriel."

El barked out a short humorless laugh; considering everything else that was occupying her mind, Michael lecturing her about the proper behavior of an ex-angel was hardly relevant, and certainly the least of the troubles they had at hand. She dropped the butt. "If I recall correctly, you said we have no time, so let's not waste it. I sure as hell have no need to be lectured, and besides… you always can do it later, Michael, after you've told them," and her head tilted towards the vehicle, "that we have the Apocalypse vol.2 at hand."

He studied her posture intently and then stepped forward; his hands clasped her forearms, dragging her very close to him. He lowered his head, eyes locked on hers, and said very quietly, "Whom have you been speaking to, and when?"

"No-one." A very wry smile appeared on her lips. "It's just… you and me and him, here, now, altogether. Do the math, Michael. Apocalypse it is. "


End file.
